Natural Selection
by EchoCIDE
Summary: Claire is sucked back into the fray as an outbreak engulfs her new home. In order to survive she knows she must do things for the sake of her life that may be questionable, but she never thought she'd have to stick with him of all people. HUNK/Claire
1. As It Begins

_Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost. _

_To tell about those woods is hard - so tangled and rough._

_And savage that thinking of it now, I feel the old fear stirring..._

* * *

><p>Claire Redfield sat hunched over a stack of files, tired eyes surreptiously trained on the words she was skimming over. A soft groaned echoed off the walls of her empty office, reverberating right back into her ears as a reminder that her long and tedious work was still bringing up no valid link between Tricell and this newest rumor about a new strain of virus that Chris had come across in a database in Africa.<p>

Nothing was panning out, but she wouldn't give up; she simply couldn't, she had to find out the truth to help him bring down Tricell for good. The president of the company, Excella Gionne, had been presumed as deceased in Africa but that apparently hadn't slowed the companies efforts for advancement. Tricell had been cranking out new products-granted none of them were particularly suspicious-and making new partners ever since, no comments on their previous president's strange disappearance.

She looked through the second file once more, looking for anything that might also link Albert Wesker to them, but she came up empty handed on that too. She rubbed her eyes and sighed, picking up her mug to find it drained of the coffee she was drinking. A glance at the pot on the far side of the room confirmed that it was empty, much to her irritation.

Claire Redfield would not be deterred, she stood taking a long stretch to ease her stiff muscles and made her way to the second floor of the office that she had established with a few other previous TerraSave employees after the company had been shut down. The Association for Bio-Safety, or ABS as she had dubbed it, had been her livelihood since the fall of her previous work with TerraSave and essentially the right arm of the BSAA. While the BSAA members were working abroad and trying to apprehend those suspected of working with the agents that had caused so many outbreaks, Claire and her team stayed in the states fishing out information to help aid them in their search. Based out of North Dakota, the ABS has two different offices, both areas headed up by two different people. The largest office is located right outside of Fargo on the the outskirts of town and is overseen by Claire herself, the other sits directly in the middle of the big city and is headed up by a good friend and coworker of hers by the name of Sarah Michaels. Sometimes Claire traveled out to the other office to do some work there but most times she kept busy with her work in her own building. Tonight was no exception as she sat alone in the big building, pouring over those annoying and piece missing files, desperately on the search of her most prized liquid Columbian livelihood.

Upon reaching the staff break room, she began tearing through the cabinets on the hunt for some coffee but with a loud groan and several demolished cabinets she came to the conclusion that she had drank the very last bit.

Still she would not be deterred, she needed some sort of caffeine to get her through the rest of the files that sat downstairs on her desk. She pulled open the refrigerator, pushing through various open, labeled containers and condiments and into the back where a few energy drinks and sodas sat. Claire furrowed her eyebrows, trying to decide which beverage would be more beneficial in her rejuvenation process and begrudgeningly grabbed a cold Red Bull in favor of the Coke or the lone Pepsi that was left untouched.

She almost visibly winced when she popped the can top, not at all looking forward to tasting this thing. She was never a fan of energy drinks, but only ever having one in her entire life, she realized that she couldn't be too terribly prejudiced as to their odd taste. The one she had drank years ago was terribly bitter and she hoped that this one was not similar.

She took a little sip and, satisfied that it wasn't all that terrible, drank some more and began to shut down the room and start making her way back to the office. Something out the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned towards the TV that hung on the wall. For some reason she hadn't noticed that it was on while she was searching throughout the fridge for a drink. A banner blinked below the normal programming and flashed with the words Emergency Broadcast.

She read the words aloud to herself as the banner slowly slid across the screen.

"An evacuation has been issued for the citizens of the city of Fargo as well as the surrounding areas...a chemical spill and explosion has just been made public. All inhabitants have been urged to evacuate immediately."

Hn. That was funny, she hadn't heard or felt any explosion. With a resigned sigh she turned off the TV and headed back downstairs to her office, shutting the lights off and locking the door as she left.

If there really was a chemical explosion it was probably in her best interests to leave town for a bit, just until the clean-up had been finished and it was okay to come back.

* * *

><p>A man in all black stood on the roof of the office connected to a nuclear power plant, his dark coloring making him blend in with one of the blackest nights the city had ever seen. A small beeping noise resounding from his belt and he unlatched the radio and clicked the button to talk.<p>

"HUNK here." His voice was somewhat obscured from the full-cover gas mask that he wore.

_"What's your position?" _The radio buzzed out with a bit of static and the voice on the other side was male and possibly Russian if the accent was anything to go on.

"I have retrieved the data. I will be en route to the destination shortly."

_"Good. Do not lose that information. It is vital to our success."_

"Understood. HUNK out." He clicked the radio back onto his belt, and began to descend the rooftop with professional precision. He had to make it to the heliport in mid-Fargo or else the copter would leave without him. A small smile made it's way onto his covered face. If it was one thing Umbrella did best, it was punctuality.

Not a soul in the city noticed as an intruder roamed throughout their midst, and he knew his job was finished. He didn't like admitting it but he was exhausted from nearly three months work and no intermission; he had constantly been infiltrating lab after lab and office after office in order to find these files, and had finally located the files on one of Umbrella's defected lab technicians. He had properly taken care of it, and now all he had to do was make it to the heliport on time.

Finally maybe he could get back to his apartment tonight and get some sleep.

* * *

><p>Claire downed the rest of the can's content and picked up the files off the desk and put them in her shoulder bag, slinging it over her torso. She checked, as she did every night before she left the office, to make sure her trusty Beretta was loaded with the safety off; so many incidents and a few potential muggings had ensured that she never left home with out it. Finally she shut down all the lights and locked up the office, heading down the street to her apartment. She never drove to the headquarters, considering that it was only about a mile from her place, and she figured that she could save some gas that way.<p>

Ever since that Harvardville incident she had been much more adept about holding up her own security procedures. Of course before then she had taken precautions but for some reason being trapped in a airport turned zombie-infested area with no viable weapon save for an umbrella at first had made her incredibly nervous. The familiar weight on her hip was the most comfort she could recieve at any time, and she silently bode a thank you to Chris for teaching her all of the 'useless gun training' as she dubbed it then.

That training had been just about the most useful thing she had ever gotten in her life, and never again would she feel like she was incredibly vulnerable.

A cold breeze tickled her nose and she noticed that the sky was incredibly dark, strange considering that the forecast tonight had called for clear sky with a bright moon, but she ignored it. The streets were strangely quiet but she had supposed that it was due to the evacuation and she was thankful that so many people had gotten away okay. Soon she was just a quarter mile from her apartment building but something had halted her in her steps.

Three police cars had been literally piled on top of eachother, and were blocking her way. She eyed around the first one and with her eyes wide she noticed that smoke was pouring out from under the hood, she backed up slowly as it caught fire to the radiator and pretty soon flames had engulfed all three cars. She turned on her heel fast, trying to put as much distance as she could before the inevitable happened, but before she could get away fast enough a fiery gust shoved her forward and she ducked for a roll. Her landing was decent enough but she had scraped her hands in trying to protect her head from hitting the pavement. She hissed as she surveyed the damage, now safely out of range from the flames and bit her lip as she removed out pieces of glass and rock that had embedded itself into her palms. Then she pulled open her bag to get out the small first aid kit, taking out the antibiotic cream and some bandage wraps. She applied the cream and wrapped the bandages around both hands and flexed them both. Nothing was broken, thank the heavens, but her hands were still sore.

Lucky her that she wasn't going to have to shoot anything today.

She got to her feet and brushed the dirt and residual rocks off of her pants, and searched for a detour around the blockade from the police cars. Spotting an alleyway she breathed a sigh of relief, not paying attention to the movement inside of the most rear police vehicle, and continued on down it.

Every few steps she walked, she began to become more and more wary of her surroundings, little noises and hisses and creaks echoed throughout the empty hall between the two very large buildings and she was hit with a wave of sickening familiarity. Her stomach had tied itself in knots and she kept her hand dutifully on her hip holster, the feel of metal in her hand doing a nominal job of placating her in her worries. In a way she was feeling somewhat silly, but the news of the chemical plant explosion had her worried, especially since there hadn't been any tell tale signs of any such thing. She hadn't felt the waves that it should have produced due to such an explosion, nor had she heard anything at the time, the night being completely and eerily silent. The only chemical plant she knew of was Holling's Coatings, and while it was a decent sized plant it was located in downtown Fargo, which happened to be nearly fifty-five miles from her apartment, or even further since she had only been to that area once. A clicking noise made her stop moving, and she turned around swiftly, removing her gun from it's holster and pointing it in the direction of the sound. She stood tensed for a moment before the grate on the wall popped open and an opossum ran out. Exhaling a sigh of relief she let her entire body relax, moving her hand to put the gun back up, but suddenly thinking better of it.

Within the blink of an eye something long and pink whipped out of the hole and wrapped around the opossum, dragging it back into the crawl space. Claire visibly jumped, and raised her gun again as gurgling and chewing noises echoed out of the hole and blood and fur bits were sprayed all over the opposite wall. Her heart dropped to the pit of her gut and she was thankful that her hands were bandaged tight to prevent them from shaking too much. Soon the noises ceased and the blood spray stopped but what followed that was even worse, as Claire was knocked back into the wall as a creature flew out from inside the wall.

It's fleshless and corded muscles gleamed with a slimy substance and it's exposed brain and open mouth were dripping with the same slime. It's long claws were razor sharp and the smell of it's rotting exterior and the tongue lashing around in front of her was merely enough to make her want to vomit.

She froze in horror and disbelief, her eyes filling up with tears.

_Not this...anything but this..._

Without warning the pink slimy muscle shot out at her, and she leapt over it, successfully dodging it and taking aim, landing a shot directly into it's brain. The licker fell over instantly on it's back, dying nerves causing it to twitch a bit before it finally died.

Before she could take a breath however, the grates all around her began to pop open and she could hear them breathing, clicking their teeth together in anticipation of a good meal.

She wanted to cry, and with good reason, because in seconds at least four more of them leapt out from their dwellings and had her surrounded, tongues waving excitedly in the air.

At that very moment, alone in a dark alleyway soon to be B.O.W food, Claire Redfield was surrounded by the proof of yet another viral outbreak.

* * *

><p>The streets were strangely silent, he noticed, as he stalked through the city quietly. His gloved hand came up to remove his gas mask, and he sniffed the air, inhaling the smell of the city and something unsettlingly familiar. He coasted along the street, snaking from dark alleys to corners and other places but it seemed that he didn't need to. No other presence had made itself known the entire time he had been there, and even the shops and homes seemed deserted. He could conspicuously walk in the middle of the street, tactical gear and all, and it seemed he wouldn't be noticed.<p>

If this didn't reek of suspicious, nothing did.

He didn't have time to worry about that though, he needed to ensure proper delivery of this data to Vladimir or there would be hell to pay, and he didn't feel like sitting through another one of that crazy Russian's speeches about "loyalty" and "obedience to the cause".

Vladimir seemed to have forgotten exactly who he had hired; HUNK had been loyal to Umbrella for many years, even if he technically wasn't employed by Umbrella itself anymore.

No, now he was merely a hired gun, working for whoever offered him the right amount; Sergei Vladimir just happened to have the right amount, and as for Umbrella well...

Even he knew that their days were numbered and their glory days behind them. Umbrella was merely nothing more than an organization in shambles and being run by an old man fit with insanity and his crazy loyal-as-a-dog Russian subordinate.

Umbrella was going to fall any day now, so he wasn't too terribly concerned about their cause or how he fit into it. All he cared about was getting to that heliport so he could maybe get some sleep tonight.

The radio beeped again and his green eyes rolled as he clicked the send button.

"HUNK."

_"Where are you? That helicopter will be dispatching in the next thirty minutes. If I don't get that data there will be hell to pay, Mr. Death."_ Vladimir sneered. He sounded angry, which caused a smirk to appear on the mercenary's strong features.

"I'll be there. You'll get your data." He replied, eyes wandering around the empty streets cautiously. Was it just him or had he just heard a scream? Before Vladimir could respond he clicked off the radio and started towards it source. He honestly had no idea why he was actively searching for it but it didn't sound very good, and given the clarity of the scream it was in very close proximity. His body carried him without thinking and he found himself before a pile of burnt up police vehicles and just as soon as he stopped in front of them, something moved inside one of the cars. Charred hands grabbed onto the ground and pulled itself along, it's skin being slaughed off onto the concrete.

"Shit." He pulled out his VP70, fondly named _Matilda, _and landed a clean shot right through the zombie's head. A few more of the undead human husks crawled out of the wreckage and without even thinking about he had eliminated those too.

The only problem was that they kept coming and he was getting backed into a corner, with not much of an escape route. He replaced his sidearm and ran through the crowd, yanking a frag grenade off his belt and tossing it into the sea of rotting flesh, rolling to safety as it went off, spraying the ground and walls with bloody tissue and bone fragment.

He ran into an alleyway and stopped, grabbing his gun once more and placing his mask back on so he could see in the looming dark. His boots crunched along broken glass as he made his way up the long alley.

Suddenly three lickers flew at him, and in an impressive display of precision he whipped out his MG and began firing on them, sending them straight onto the ground dead.

And then he saw her, dangling from a fire escape, her face contorted in her effort to hang on as what couldn't be any less than five of those creatures surrounding her on all sides. One of them reared forward to latch onto her but with a grunt she swung and kicked out, her foot colliding into it's head and crushing it's brain. He rose his eyebrow and pulled out his gun, sparing four bullets for the other ones, all clean headshots. Her arms gave out and she fell, landing on her feet, and immediately she swooped up her beretta off the ground and pointed it straight at him.

"HUNK." Her voice was soft but seeped with malice, and her gun was pointed directly at his heart. He pushed it away with a glove hand and turned around, merely walking away. An indignant look settled over her features and she ran after him.

"Hey! Get back here! Don't walk away from me!" She caught up with him, his tall form towering over her more slight one, "What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, but he didn't respond, not breaking his brisk stride.

She was aware that if he wanted to he could kill her at any moment, but right now it seemed as if the man in black was her very last problem.

"Excuse me? I'm talking to you..." She tried walking out in front of him, but he pushed her aside. He finally spoke though she counted that as a job well done.

"I have business to attend to. Carry on, Miss." That earned a laugh from her and once again he rolled his eyes, although it was hidden. Women. Without warning she raised her gun to his him again, this time she pressed it straight against his head, and he stopped, turning to face her.

_Might as well get this over with. Not like there's anything to gain in killing her._

"Yes?" He said, a slight pang of annoyance clear in his altered voice. Through his red eye holes he studied her face, a strong sense of familiarity seeping into him. This girl...he had seen her before, and not just once. He had seen her on a few different accounts. She was older now and had body was more developed but he definitely recognized her.

Chris Redfield's little sister, Claire: survivor of the Raccoon City incident, the Rockfort incident and the Harvardville incident.

With a surprisingly steady hand she pushed the gun against his mask harder and he felt like just incapacitating her so he hurry up and get to that heliport and end this ridiculous assignment for good.

To be honest, he didn't feel like sticking around this condemned city for too long unless he had to, and the normally patient and even man found himself getting irritated.

"What are you doing here? You had something to do with this didn't you?" She hissed, anger in her eyes and he sighed.

"I don't have time for this, I-" Without warning a sharp rumble caused shook the ground, causing both of them to lose their footing, but only she pitched forward. Without thinking he grabbed her arm and tried to right her but the ground was starting to crumble. A crack appeared and her foot slipped, the edge crumbling as she fell. A yell was pushed out of her and she grabbed the edge, but rocks were falling and hitting her hands. She slipped but right before she was going to fall for good, a black gloved hand caught hers and she was pulled up.

_'That's the second time he's helped me out, when he could have just left me to die.'_

She didn't have time to ponder the answer as to why because within seconds of him pulling her up a huge worm-like creature broke through the already open ground, sending debris and big hunks of cement flying their way. Instincts flaring, they both leapt behind a standing vehicle in order to not get hit by a large piece of rock flying their way. He pulled out his machine gun and crouched as she got to her knees beside him. Removing a few clips of handgun ammo from his hip he tossed them to her and she began to reload her gun.

"We have to take this thing out." He said, and she nodded.

"Ready?" She asked, placing the other two clips of ammo into her belt loop. Before they could act however the oversized worm ripped their cover car up and threw it into a wall, shattering glass and metal on top of itself.

"Distract it! I'll find a way to kill it." He yelled to her and she nodded and ran off in the direction of the worm.

It was strange, he thought as she popped about a dozen shots into the B.O.W, he was fighting side by side with the sister of Wesker's long hated rival. Even if he hadn't seen Wesker in quite some time it was almost surreal since he had essentially been Wesker's right hand man for so long.

Still, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed her to at least take this thing out. He watched her as he loaded incendiary rounds into his grenade launcher; she was running back and forth in front of it, pinging it in the eye with her handgun. She was doing a decently good job at dodging the things it was throwing at her, and her aim was pretty flawless. For a civilian she was quite adept at what she was doing.

Had she fought something like this before?

It didn't matter, they were basically using eachother for survival and after this he would be over that highway and directly on the heliport.

He still had fifteen minutes until the helicopter took off, so as long as he could get this thing good and killed before that he could still make it in time. He hoisted the grenade launcher over his forearm and took aim at it's head that was set directly in front of her. He motioned to her to move out the way and she took off in another direction to take refuge behind a building. He blasted three fire rounds into it's head and it started to swagger, swinging it's front half around uncoordinatedly and after three more rounds it finally dropped.

He stood and removed his mask, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve as she walked back over to him. Suddenly the ground in front of him tore open and the worm's tail came out and hit him directly in the stomach. He flew about twenty feet before his back hit a brick wall and he spat out blood onto the front of his kevlar. Claire ran over to him, pumping her last clip into it's head effectively rendering it dead for good this time. She quickly knelt down by his side.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was concerned, and he was taken aback, but that could have also been the fact that he just had the wind knocked out of him something fierce.

"Nothing serious." He responded. His hand automatically reached for his mask but it wasn't anywhere near him. His eyes searched around the road for it until they landed on the mask.

Apparently when he was hit he dropped it, and it fell right into a pile of worm droppings. A very large pile with a human arm protruding from it.

_'Well...shit. Ain't this just my day.'_


	2. Uneasy Coexistence

_ Where I go, I just don't know, I might end up somewhere in Mexico_

_When I find my peace of mind_

_I'm gonna give you some of my good time_

* * *

><p>His eyes narrowed at the unfortunate mess on the ground before him. This had not gone the way he had wanted it to at all. Well of course it hadn't; his freakin' mask was sitting in a pile of B.O.W shit. Claire let out something that sounded alot like a hiccup and he snapped his head at her. A bandaged hand was placed tightly over her mouth and her body was trembling repressively. He tilted his head at her. She must have been afraid or in shock or something and he rolled his eyes. He really, really, really didn't need to be dealing with over-emotional females tonight. This night had already basically been a disaster and the sooner he could ditch her the better. So what if she had helped him kill that thing back there? He had abandoned people for doing more.<p>

The time of helping civilian girls had come to a close and now was the time to blow this joint.

Suddenly a fit of giggles erupted from the woman behind him as he retrieved a stick and pulled his desecrated gas mask from the lovely resting place it had been in. He glared at her through narrow eyes. A little fit of giggles turned into something more loud as he rinsed the gas mask off under a spiget jutting from a wall. The fit of chuckles turned into maniacal laughter as he put the mask back on, and her hand came up to point at his head as she doubled over her other hand clutching her stomach.

"What?" He asked, clearly annoyed and just about fed up with this girl. "What the hell is so funny?" Maybe he should just kill her. And what the hell was that smell?

Booming laughter fell through her mouth and all she could get out was a broken heap of words that sounded like, "There's still-HAHAHAHA!" Hastily he removed the mask again and upon closer inspection he found a clump of excrement lodged into the vent of the mouthguard. Eyes wide he threw it down and fought back the urge to both kick the girl in the face and throw up.

"I'm-I'm sorry...it's just...it was right next to your mouth," Her giggles finally ceased and the more she spoke the more his eyes narrowed at her and his mouth tugged into a snarl, "You want me to help clean your mask for you?"

"Forget the mask! I'm out of here." He sulked off and in seconds she was behind him. Why the hell hadn't he killed her-or at the very least disabled her-yet? Maybe she had some use, but whatever that was it couldn't be more beneficial than dealing with her. Still, he made no attempt to shoo her away. As if that would work...

It seemed that hours had passed since their fight and exhaustion was finally beginning to take hold of her. Her eyes were pointed directly in the back of his blonde head and she sighed aloud, wondering if he even knew she was following him. He didn't exactly seem like the type of guy who paid much attention to other people.

_'Unless he's killing them,' _Her mind echoed quietly. Even then she doubted he paid much attention during that time either. After all, he had probably killed more healthy humans than she had killed zombies. That thought was kind of disturbing but she pushed it aside for another time, deciding then was the time to ask him where exactly they were headed.

"Where are we going?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly unamused with the fact that the Redfield girl saw fit to follow him in the first place. Didn't she realize that they were on opposite sides? What the hell was she doing anyway, and what kind of crappy luck did someone have to have to keep getting in these situations _on accident_. He had often heard Wesker complain about the Redfields and their irritating luck, which he always thought was humorous. Wesker didn't seem like the kind of man who believed in such a thing. He certainly didn't.

"_I _am headed to my rendevous point, and _you_ can go where ever you like." The subtext read '_As long as it's not with me'._

"Oh I see, flying solo then?"

"I am."

"And," She started, hand on her hip as she stopped, "You think I'm just going to let you get away with this?" Her words had the exact desired effect because he turned around and started walking towards her.

"Get away with what, Miss Redfield?" If looks could kill, she'd be dead right now. Still she didn't back down, just because he was some hardcore Umbrella operative who singlehandedly stole the G sample and survived where others died did not mean that she would be afraid of him. Everything that he had done in Raccoon, she had done if not more.

"Oh you know, just infecting an entire city with a terrible virus and basically murdering everyone in the process. Nothing big of course." He was no stranger to sarcasm and at any other time he would have taken her bait and fought back but he was in no mood to be playing the blame game with her. So all he did was roll his eyes and turn back around.

"I didn't do this." He said quietly.

"Maybe not by yourself but I'm sure you had something to do with it." She strode back up to him, by his side once more.

"If you honestly think I had something to do with this shit why would you be following me like a lost puppy?" He reloaded _Matilda, _and felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth at her silence, "Exactly."

"So you are completely innocent of this? Why are you here then?"

"Coincidence."

"Coincidence?"

"Coincidence."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

By this point he could definitely say he was fed up with her. He turned to her faster than she could keep track off and pinned her against a brick building.

"Honestly, I couldn't give a shit what you believe. I am in no mood to be pushed around by some _little girl_ with control issues. I have shit to do and places to go and in about five minutes I'll be out of here and you," He slammed his fist in the wall for emphasis ignoring the way her chest was pressed against his and the way he could feel her quickened breaths, "will be stuck here with the rest of these dead-brained creatures. Zombie food. I am not missing my evac helicopter because you want to grill me about shit I don't even care about." Her eyes adverted from his face and she was looking over his shoulder at something. All it took was the beat of helicopter blades to tell him _exactly _what held her attention. She smirked and it took all of his strength to not knock her head into that wall.

"You mean _that_ helicopter?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked behind him. Now he wasn't a man to easily lose his cool and in general he was very mild tempered-as his training had dictated him to be-but he was human. He didn't always have perfect control over his emotions. The helicopter was moving away quickly, a little too quickly if you asked him. With a loud groan he bolted away from the girl still pinned to the wall and began to run in the direction of it.

"Shit, shit, shit, come on." He sped up, crying out towards the sky, "Hey! Come back here you bastards!" The helicopter was almost out of sight when he stopped and apparently hadn't seen him. Or maybe it had and didn't care. He growled angrily and picked up a rock off the ground, pelting it in that direction. It wouldn't do any good but it made him feel a little better.

He stood there for what seemed like an hour, mouth hanging slightly open just staring at an empty helicopter-less sky. That was fine, that was just fine because he had gotten himself out of far stickier situations than this. He would be just fine.

It was time to stop being so damn moody and time to buck up like the soldier he was. No more of this self-pity crap, he could handle an entire city filled with B., hell knows he had done it before-more than once he might add.

Today hadn't started out as the best of days in the first place, that would explain the sour mood.

His attention was jolted at the feel of something warm on his shoulder and he turned his head to find the redheaded girl standing right behind him, her hand resting there.

"I'm sorry you missed your helicopter." His eyebrow furrowed slightly; the girl had this look of guilt on her face, it was as if she felt like it was her fault.

Well in a way it _was _her fault but he didn't feel the need to elaborate on it. He was far too tired to have any long, drag-out fights that would make her talk more.

"It's fine. I've been in much worse situations." While this was true he had no idea as to what to do now, that was most likely the last evac chopper in this forsaken city. He tried to contact anyone on his radio but he couldn't get a clear signal and he had a feeling that no one was there anyway.

A piece of paper flitted across the ground and came to rest right in front of him, the label read: Umbrella Incorporated; Our Business Is Life Itself.

It was like a sign from above and if he believed in such a thing as God he would have thanked him right there.

No more than ten miles from here was an abandoned Umbrella lab, complete with helicopter hangar and all. He wasn't sure if there actually were any choppers on the pad but he did know that there was a transport train underneath the lab. A train that led almost directly to his destination.

He went to step forward when a pile of bricks landed on his head, figuratively of course, but the realization felt the same either way.

In order to access the underground train he had to get past the heavy set of doors that required _two_ fingerprint identifications and _two_ registrations. It was quite similar to the one underneath Raccoon City, below the RPD.

This would mean -unless there were other people in the laboratory, which he highly doubted considering it was supposed to be abandoned, that he needed a second person to help him open that door. Of course he could always just take the chance that there was indeed a working helicopter that he could use but then he ran the risk of there not being one and so he would be stuck out.

He had no choice but to take Claire with him.

He exhaled slowly before he turned around, eyes following down his unchosen partner. She was lean and she was fast, she had been through _several_ viral outbreaks, and - from what he had seen so far - she was loyal to a fault. The latter being a trait that he had no business with, something he was sure would get her killed one day. That infamous Redfield luck had to run out sometime right?

She hadn't spoken in quite some time, making him wonder what exactly she was thinking about and if maybe he had been wrong in that loyalty assumption. She could very well be plotting to kill him the moment he let even the slightest bit of guard down around her. Not that she would succeed; his line of work called for such a paranoid state.

"Listen," He began, "There's an abandoned URF about ten miles from here. That's where I'm headed, if you want to come..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish. What exactly was he going to say? 'Oh, I would love to have you trail along, I really need your help'?

Fuck. That.

He would never actually admit to needing assistance. Not aloud anyway.

"I thought you only worked solo." He fought back the urge to sneer at the smirk upturning the corners of her mouth.

"I do. I figured you could use a hand. You'd be all alone here." He mumbled under his breath. How humiliating was this?

_'Man up. Be a team player for once, your survival kind of depends on it.'_

As much as it killed him to agree, he knew that nagging voice was right. He needed a second body to help him open those doors. Plus who knew what was lurking around that facility. He didn't need another close call like the one he had in Raccoon; that still bothered him years down the road.

She walked forward, extending her hand towards him, "So I suppose we're calling in a truce then?"

He didn't take it, just nodded at her. She dropped her hand with a sigh.

"Well, if we're headed towards an Umbrella lab we should probably get some more weapons. I'm low on ammo and my first aid kit could use a restock." She came to rest at his shoulder and pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. It was a map, bright red marker having marked all of the important points that would be needed just in case something like this happened.

"Seems you were prepared for this." He mused.

"Yeah well," She let out an ironic laugh that didn't sound like she actually thought it was funny, "considering that this has happened to me more than I would have liked it to, I kind of have to be prepared. History is repetitive after all."

"Hn."

She analyzed the map quickly taking note of the location for the gun shop on 23rd Street. "Strong, silent type huh?"

"There's nothing to talk about." He reloaded the rest of his weapons and checked his supplies; he was down to two magazines of handgun ammo and one clip of MG ammo, not to mention he was out of healing supplies completely. They should really get going so the could get out before daybreak, considering the last time a large city like this had gotten infected had been completely wiped off the map when it was discovered that there were no other means of containment. He stepped forward and like clockwork she followed him, gun raised up and held firmly in her hand. Her stance was pretty good for someone with no true firearms training but he supposed that her brother - who had been the best marksman in STARS, or so he heard - had taught her what she knew.

They walked in silence at least two miles before she actually spoke, whispering to not attract any unnecessary attention. The night seemed quiet and no movement could be seen from anywhere but they both knew that in these situations that meant nothing.

"How did you get into this?"

He secured the corner ahead before replying, "Into what?"

"You know, the whole big, bad emotionless gun for hire gig. I mean, this couldn't have been your childhood dream right?"

She was trying to get him to open up, which in his book was a sign for danger. One should never tell the enemy anything that would pertain to their past. Childhood weaknesses, friends, family were all things that an enemy interrogator could use to break you down emotionally, mentally and physically. However, as much as he loathed telling this girl _anything_ he knew he had to tell her something or else she would never shut up. The last thing they needed was for her to run her big mouth and get them spotted by some zombie -or a dozen - looking for a midnight snack. He settled on a run of the mill normal answer.

"I wanted to be a fireman when I was a kid." For some reason she laughed, although it was less of a laugh and more of a snort, another thing he didn't appreciate. That was the one thing he had always had a problem dealing with. Someone dying right in front of his face? No problem. Repetitive torture? He could deal. People laughing at his expense? Pissed him off.

He had tried to avoid showing that it bothered him but he had a problem with that too, it always showed on his face and if he was pissed enough he would pull some reckless act that usually got him in trouble. It was the one aspect of his emotional training that he had problems with.

"What?" He sneered.

"Oh nothing." She singsonged. Annoying woman.

"_What?" _ It was meant to sound menacing but due to the volume they had to speak at he wasn't sure if it didn't sound like a whine instead. God he hoped not.

"You must think I'm an idiot, that's all."

"Well," They rounded a corner, and froze as something rattled in the trashcans, "If the shoe fits."

"What the hell is in there?" She asked, ignoring his comment.

"I don't know, probably a rat. Why? Scared?"

"Screw you, I'm not scared I just don't feel like being eaten by something that pops out of garbage cans." She hissed and he rolled his eyes, pulling off the top on the can. True to his theory it was indeed a rat. It's big red eyes grew wide as it realized it's home had been sabotaged and jumped out and towards Claire, who squealed a bit and scooted towards the corner. Her partner rolled his eyes.

"Of all the things in this city, you're afraid of a rat?" The woman in question placed her hand on her hip and snarled in his direction.

"No! It's just that they carry diseases and...and...they're the ones who spread the virus around!" She defended but he didn't look convinced. Nonetheless they had to keep moving.

"Come on. We're getting close to the subway, we can ride it to the facility."

"What if it's not working?" She asked, checking her supplies, "We're going to _have_ to stop at the weapon shop. I'm almost out of ammo."

"No," He stopped her, suddenly changing his mind. Stopping again was an unnecessary hazard, the place was probably swarming with zombies, "There's a weapon cache at the facility that should still be decently stocked." He pulled his beloved sidearm from his belt and handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise said nothing. This man was proving to be more and more perplexing as time went on. She took it nonetheless, figuring that an unarmed partner was far less beneficial than hanging on to his prized gun for the moment. He was a survivalist after all. She could agree with such things herself, having been through these situations on more than one account.

Still...

She didn't question it and instead followed him into the tunnel leading towards the subway. They were met with a large pile of debris blocking the entrance.

"I don't suppose you have anything that could blow a hole through this do you?" He sighed, cocking an eye towards her for good measure. She placed her hands on her hips and examined the blockage.

"I figured you would." She replied.

"Nope. I used my last grenade back there."

With an irritated snort she kicked the rubble with the toe of her boot and a bit crumbled down, leaving a small hole in the wall.

"Well," He bent down and poked a particularly large piece of cement with his index finger, "maybe we don't need explosives after all." With as much force as he could muster he slammed his boot into the debris and some more of it cleared out of the way. Without any instruction, Claire dropped to her knees and began pushing the junk away as he crushed it with his foot. It took a good fifteen minutes before they were able to clear a decent sized passageway to fit through but they did eventually and Claire went through first. He followed quickly and got past just in time before the remaining debris crumbled down on what would have been his head. She held her hand out to him and he took it begrudgingly, letting her pull him to his feet.

"Good job." She said, offering a genuine smile that left him feeling quite uneasy. He quickly sprinted towards the transit system, prying open the doors and let himself inside. The power was out but with a flick of a few switches he got the car up and running again. The doors slid open to allow her in but she wasn't behind him. He quirked an eyebrow and popped his head out.

"Redfield?" Nothing met him but silence in the dark.

"This is not the time to be having a tour around. Redfield!" He called out but no response and he couldn't see her anywhere. He walked out of the car cautiously, peering around the corner to allow himself a better view.

Shit, where the hell was she? He left her side for no more than four minutes and she runs off. This was exactly the reason why he never partnered with women for important things like this. She probably found a cute squirrel trapped under a pallet and felt - in all her feminine sentimentality - that it would be more beneficial to rescue it than stand aside long enough for him to START THE GODDAMNED SUBWAY CAR!

"Damn woman..." He grumbled into his machine gun as he turned the corner, "Got me running around looking for her when we could be halfway to the-" He words dropped off at the sight before him.

Claire Redfield, the same woman he was cursing before was now pinned between the wall and a large humanoid creature. It's gruesome looking claw was the only thing keeping her in place, having pierced right through her shoulder and was jammed into a large crack in the cement. It turned sharply flinging her to the floor with a sickening thud, leaving her in a breathless, barely conscious heap and began to move towards him.

Without even flinching he flew to the side as the Tyrant swung it's arm at him, catching the now crumbled cement beam that was supporting the ceiling. He dove for her, swooping her up fast and threw her over his shoulder as the beam collapsed and hunks of cement came falling down on top of the Tyrant's head.

He bolted for the subway as the rubble began to shake down, signaling that the Tyrant was in no way finished with what it was doing. He yanked open the car door fast and laid her inside as he started the subway up but it still took a few moments for it to actually move. As it began to move forward he felt the car shake violently and he swore when he heard that unsettling groan from above. He got down on one knee and grabbed Claire's shoulder, wincing at the cracked bone shard that was sticking out slightly through the wound.

"Oh god." He sighed and with a ripping noise that seemed unnaturally loud, as if it were a bell ringing that signaled his previous 'every man for himself' attitude was cracking, he tore his arm sleeve and set it down next to him. He found an emergency first aid kit affixed to the wall of the train and removed it, the stale creaking of the unoiled hinges as he pulled it open drawing another annoyed growl from the creature attached to the train. His legs trembled as the car shook violently and he set to work quickly. He pulled her jacket off to free her arm and sprayed some antiseptic pain killer on her shoulder, noting that the while the gash was large and deep it wasn't too jagged. Though she would really need a cast and probably rehabilitation to use her arm properly again, there was only so much he could do with a first aid kit from the 1980's and no proper equipment. The wound wasn't leaking a large amount of blood and he set the bone back in place as best as he could before wrapping it tightly in bandages that looked maybe four days from dry rotting. Claire was unconcious but still responsive as she twitched and moaned from apparent pain and he shushed her as soothingly as he could. He fastened a makeshift splint from some tongue depressors and tape and wrapped more bandage around that before fashioning a sling from his torn sleeve. He went to shake her awake when a menacing howl came and a huge claw burst from the top of the car, shredding through the metal like it was paper, from right above him. The tyrant was attempting with wiggle it's way inside the car, ripping away at the roof and he grabbed the gun he had given Claire and squeezed off a few shots in it's ugly face. It screamed out, more out of annoyance than pain but wasn't much deterred. He did successfully shoot it's only usable eye out, so it probably couldn't see anymore, something he planned on using to his full advantage. Still...

What was he supposed to do now?

A red box on the wall caught his eye and he smirked. He threw the girl over his shoulder and ran for the purge device but was cut off when the tyrant fell down into the car with him, thick, almost-black blood oozing from it's eye.

It was disturbingly close and took a swipe at him, fortunately he was faster than a blind tyrant and he moved to the front of the car as it's claw got lodged in the metal wall. Using it's frantic state to his advantage he threw his elbow at the glass and set the emergency detonate for one minute. Holding Claire tightly he pulled open the doors and readied himself to jump at the breakneck speed the car was going. The Tyrant hissed behind him, finally freeing it's arm and snarled at him before rearing it's shoulder back to throw another hit at him. At a running start the infamous Mr. Death, cradling an unconcious Redfield in his arms, tucked into a roll as he threw himself out of the door, hitting the cement hard. Before he could really gain his proper footing he broke out into a run as soon as he scrambled to his feet, racing down the tunnel as fast as he could manage. He hadn't noticed that all of the scuffle had caused Claire's eyes to flutter open and she cried out at the pain in her shoulder, alerting him to her now lucid state. He had no time to respond or even assure her but she must have realized that something was wrong and she grabbed on to his neck with her working hand. He didn't turn back as the high pitched scream echoed throughout the tunnel and when he saw the the tunnel's exit his legs moved even faster, the muscles straining to collapse. The final beep sounded and the deafening sound blew out one of his eardrums and felt the heat on his back from the flame quickly flooding the tunnel singed the hairs on his neck and he jumped, propelled forward from the blast.

Claire had become dislodged from him and went flying, hitting the ground with a thud. The ground was very smooth and slippery and she cried out as she skidded along the polished cement, her arm coming out to block her head from slamming into anything she was headed towards. Luckily she stopped moments before she actually made contact and she whimpered as her injured arm slid under her. She moved slowly in the dark, hearing nothing as she struggled to get on her back. The silence was deafening and for a moment she just lay there, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Something was wrong though, she couldn't hear her 'partner' anywhere. Her hoarse voice called out in the dark, not knowing what else to call him by, "HUNK?" She didn't receive any response so she called out again, voice higher from worry that he might be seriously injured or possibly dead, "HUNK? Where are you?"

Relief flooded through her as scuffling sounded in the darkness and she heard a slightly pained groan. She got to her feet as fast as she could move, forgetting her injury for a moment and wincing when she pulled it but made her way towards where she was sure he was. He was laying on his side and she could see his face in the dimly lit area he was close to. His eyes were half lidded as blood dribbled down his cheek from a relatively deep cut about his eyebrow.

"Are you alright?" She asked, trying to pull him up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," His eyes traveled to the tunnel exit, noting that the flames had painted the walls black with soot and ash, "We lost it."

"Lost what?" Her eyebrows furrowed and they both stood up. A twinge of pain from her arm made her remember what exactly they had lost and silently she mouthed a little 'O'. His face dropped to look at her arm and she could feel him become slightly apprehensive in front of her. She decided to save him the trouble.

"It's okay. Thank you." Her hand reached out to his shoulder and she patted it there lightly, causing his head to snap up. She caught his eyes and held his stare for the briefest of moments, the sharp and vibrant green softening for a second before he averted it towards a huge structure with giant metal doors and no windows.

"We should get moving. Can you still shoot?" He seemed to refuse to look at her, for guilt or for fear he was actually feeling bad that she was hurt she didn't know. She didn't challenge it because if his strong silence and tense shoulders were anything to go by that conversation wouldn't go anywhere or would only serve to piss him off. Or both. She knew that he had broken a thousand different rules to himself in the act of helping her, she also knew that he was still technically her enemy. If even by association, they still worked for two different sides and still had two different agendas. She knew nothing about this man and though he had saved her life it was entirely possible that he could suddenly decide that she wasn't worth the trouble and kill her. She knew that she needed to tread carefully around him, she knew he was dangerous.

What she didn't know though was if his dedication to his employer was strong because of the meaning or because of the lifestyle it provided him. She didn't know which she preferred it would be. He was a mercenary - an assassin with an agenda - which meant that for the right price he would follow the Devil down the River Styx and back again.

In his mind, she was sure, money was more important than the integrity of knowing that you were doing something right. If whoever he was working for caught wind of her being with him and decided she would be a liability, he could just probably add a few more zeroes to his check and she would be snuffed out. She couldn't trust him because doing so would allow her to let her guard down and if he did try to kill she would have no chance of fighting back because she wouldn't expect it.

Blue eyes traveled apprehensively to examine his profile as he walked close-by. His strong jaw was taut, his angular features were incredibly handsome but somewhat severe and the soft light brown hair on his chin, jaw and cheeks was just slightly scruffy, there was the beginnings of an accompanying mustache forming on his upper lip. Claire had never been much a fan of facial hair but she decided that this looked more than fitting on him. She imagined when he shaved it off it probably took years off his age. Not so absently she wondered how old he was and then she wondered where he was from.

She opened her mouth to ask the question of his age but soon shut it as she reminded herself that she shouldn't push the envelope with getting to know him more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn't like he was some kid a year from graduating from highschool who enjoyed checking her out when he thought she wasn't looking.

A frown had settled on her face at the thought of the young man who had triggered that imagery in her head. Steve. She sighed softly as she thought of the way he had selflessly sacrificed himself and fought through a terrible and possibly uncontrollable mutation to protect her from himself. In the beginning she thought of him as immature and reckless, maybe even a possible delay in her escape plans. Time with him had showed him that while still a bit reckless he had amounted to far more than she could have imagined. Just hours before his death she had even begun to grow a sort of affection for him, one that couldn't just be explained by the fact that he had her back every second. And as soon as she was able to attempt to let him past her walls and possibly into her heart, as soon as she saw him with the masculinity he attempted to project he was taken away from her. He had been killed by a deranged tyrant who had experimented on her own father and murdered her brother with the ideal to become queen of a world she would have ultimately destroyed as well.

* * *

><p>She followed the man by her side through the doors and into the foyer of the building wordlessly he had handed her his gun again. Her eyes settled on his face again and she realized that if the chance of him killing her wasn't enough to deter her away then...<p>

No, she'd have other reasons to stay away from the lock box that was the real him. Still, there was one thing she had been wanting to ask him:

"What's your name?"

His head snapped at her and for a moment she watched as the gears turned behind his eyes and she knew he was weighing on if he should actually tell her or not. If he did he could possibly tell her a fake name, "Why do you want to know that?"

His question caught her off guard but it wasn't surprising that he would retort with something like that. In fact there were a few things that maybe he thought he had hidden well that really weren't so, "It's common courtesy. I'm not asking for your social security number or birth certificate." Her words were biting and she really hadn't meant for them to be so.

"I don't have either of those things so if you were you'd be disappointed." A smirk formed on his lips and she furrowed her eyebrows.

"So what? You don't have an identity?"

"I do. Just not one that identifies me as an actual living person. Technically," He turned to her with a strange mischievous look in his eye that was kind of unusual to see, "I'm dead."

"Is that your attempt at humor?" Claire wasn't very amused but her eyebrow softened as he let out the smallest of chuckles, leading the way to an elevator at the back of the reception area.

"Maybe. Why is it so necessary that you know my name?"

"Why are you dodging my questions with questions?"

"Why are you?"

Claire let out a sound of annoyance and turned away from him as he discovered that the power was out to the elevator. He knew that the power room to the first floor was somewhere below the foyer and there should have been a door leading down to the small room. His eyes caught sight of it and he moved towards it but stopped and turned towards Claire.

"I'll be right back, stay here." Just like he had expected she didn't listen and instead moved with him but he pushed her back with a firm hand on her uninjured shoulder, "No."

"I want to go with you. You don't know what could be down there." She said, irritated that he seemed to think he could go on telling her what to do. He didn't own her and they were supposed to have eachother's backs. From everything but eachother of course.

"And what exactly are you going to do if there is? Shake your sling at them?" Despite her irritance she looked down at her arm and noticed something that for some reason she hadn't paid attention to before. The 'sling' he had mentioned was made of the same material as his shirt and his left sleeve was missing. She frowned at this, that he had done such a thing seemed quite unlike him. She saw the look in his eyes and realized something that left her perplexed: he didn't want her to get hurt again. That made no sense though so perhaps he just thought she'd get in his way, "Just wait here. I need to turn the power on." He moved away and hesitantly she caught his shoulder. He rolled his eyes and huffed, prepared for her to keep being a stubborn ass but when he heard ripping he looked back at her as his other sleeve fell from his arm. A perplexed look took his face.

"You looked stupid. I just evened it out." She responded simply with a slight smile on her face.

"Yeah," He couldn't help his own small smile, "Because zombies only eat the fashionable."

"Just hurry up okay? This place gives me the creeps."

He didn't respond to that with anything but opening the door to the steep staircase that led to the first floor power room. The place was encompassed in complete darkness and he couldn't see his hand right in front of his face even though the door was open behind him: there was no light in there either. He pulled the flashlight from his belt and clicked it on, scanning the stairs for any signs of movement. He moved down quickly but with skill and caution. Nothing was down here and inwardly he sighed with relief, the surprises were getting old.

A large generator surrounded by various control panels looking ancient in their structure sat in the middle of the room and he approached the first one, flicking the switches to the desired settings. He hit the switches on two other control panels before actually turning on the generator but the loud never ending roar that came from it as power was supplied to the floor made him smirk a bit. However a slam interrupted his pleased moment.

He ran up the staircase and found the door sealed shut. If he had been paying attention to the panel next to the door on the outside he might have noticed that it was originally electrically locked. He cursed and looked to the side of the door, cursing even louder when he found the keypad on his side had been ripped out of the wall, leaving a square hole teeming with what were probably live wires.

"Redfield?" He yelled out at the door but when he heard nothing on the other side he couldn't deny that the sick way his stomach had dropped was akin to fear and worry.

Worry that she wasn't on the other side, that something had happened to her. He'd never admit this of course.

"REDFIELD!" He screamed out, slamming on the door with his fists. The sound of her panicked rush to get to the door made him breathe out in relief, though he told himself it was because maybe he wouldn't get stuck down here forever, not the other option.

"I can't open the door!" Her voice came frantic from the other side, muffled by the thick layer of steel between them as she jiggled the handle hard, "What happened?"

"The power came on and the door shut. Is there a panel next to the door?" He asked and silence followed a moment as she checked.

"Yes but I don't know the code!" She seemed really frantic and he needed her to be calm right now, so she wouldn't have some female meltdown.

"Listen to me, calm down and listen. Go to the computer at the reception desk and when it's on it will ask you for a registered name and password. Type in: 'mhalloway' and then 00261834."

"Okay...'mhalloway', 00261834. Got it. Then what?"

"Then," For some reason having her knowing this piece of information was not as difficult as he imagined it would. He supposed it didn't matter, he hadn't worked for Umbrella in a very long time, "You need to go to the bottom and type in 'Lock Security Access '. That will bring up a list that should give you the code to the doors on this floor. Find the code for this one and enter it in the panel."

"Okay." He heard her move from the door and then stop short, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Go."

Claire moved swiftly and hit the power switch for the computer. It powered on with an all black screen until the familiar red and white symbol appeared, spinning slowly as the computer loaded. True to what he said a box popped up, asking for the registration information and she put it in.

"Welcome back, Mr. Halloway." The autonomous female voice squeaked from the old speakers. Claire made quick work of getting to the access window but then the screen darkened as another box popped up this one asking for another registration code. She typed in the same one he had given her but was denied. She stomped her foot irritatably and exhaled sharply, turning from the computer and back to the door.

"It won't let me access the codes. It needs another registered account. The one you gave me doesn't work." She said against the door and she didn't see it but a strange look had come over his face, as memories came thrusting through the wall he had built in his brain. He sighed and rubbed his face hard.

"Try 'jkennis', '00611299'." His voice was hoarse but if she noticed it she didn't respond. He heard her move away from the door and a migraine settled in his temples. He closed his eyes and immediately a set of bright brown eyes was behind his eyelids. He shook his head hard but it didn't help. He could smell it, feel the hands on his face, taste it on his lips and his body shuddered as it began to surface again. He didn't want to remember, he had worked so hard to forget, done things to himself so he would. He rubbed his hands together and he felt the almost oily sensation of blood between his fingers. He could hear the scream in his ears and see himself looking up with angry tears in his eyes. Red, slit pupil eyes looked down at him and he could feel the hand on his shoulder, could feel the sting of the needle in his neck.

_'A shame. It could have been useful.'_

He didn't hear the door beep or see it swing open but when he looked up he saw her, standing there looking proud and her lips were upturned in a bright smile.

"I did it Mike! I can't believe it! I actually did it!"

He smiled numbly as a pain shot through his chest, "So you did." He stared at her fondly, her black curls bouncing and her brown eyes were so happy. She was so happy.

A feeling akin to being stabbed presented itself in his skull and he felt bile forming in his throat as his conciousness faded and he collapsed, hitting his head hard on the marble floor.

* * *

><p>Claire's eyes shot up wildly as his body nearly fell to the floor in front of her. Her mouth opened as she panicked and scrambled down to see if he was okay. She shook him slightly but he didn't respond. What the hell just happened? He was just fine a few minutes ago. Fearing the worst she checked him for bites or anything that indicated he'd been attacked. She didn't see anything and he seemed to be alive so she shook him harder. Slowly his eyes opened and she breathed a sigh of relief.<p>

"Are you okay? What happened?" She rushed as he seemed to take stock of the situation and hurriedly got to his feet, ashamed for that having happened at all. And after so many years...

"Nothing. Let's go." He moved past her as if she didn't exist but of course she would never just desist like that.

"The hell it was. You were fine one second and the next you're on the floor unconcious!"

"Drop it." He said through teeth that were so tight they might have cracked.

"No! Tell me what happened-" Her words were ripped from her lungs and suddenly her back was against the wall. His hands were pressing into her shoulders painfully and she cried out as tears sprang to her eyes at the pressure in her injured one. Her head fell back and the wetness flowed down her cheeks as she looked at him, his eyes narrow in fury and his jaw absurdly tighter.

"Pl-Please..." She whimpered and he let her go, turned in a flash and pressed the button for the elevator, anger flowing off him in waves. Claire made no motion to move, desperately wiping her face and felt her stomach drop. She turned her head slowly towards him and found him staring at the floor with a mixture of guilt and anger on his face. The elevator doors opened but he didn't enter it.

"Hurry up, Redfield."

Claire didn't move, her eyebrows furrowing as she rubbed her shoulder gingerly. What had just happened? It was like...something had awakened inside of him and brought about that display of violence. Something told her that she didn't want to know what it was. She moved forward as her perplexity turned to her own anger as she neared him.

She didn't have to tell herself anymore that trying to get to know him was dangerous. He had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want or need her help. She would treat him the same away from now on. She was in it to survive and as soon as she could, she'd be gone.

He made sure of that.


	3. Fire Fight

_So say goodbye to the world, we are the dead that walk the earth_

_Scream your lungs out, wait for laughter, you don't have to wait forever_

_Here's the next disaster_

* * *

><p>The ride up to the second floor was unusually long and the atmosphere couldn't be more stifling. The tension from the incident moments before had both parties feeling sore and irritated. There was no missing the hurt that shone in Claire's eyes. It seemed as if they were taking one step forward and two steps back at every turn and just as she thought he was starting to unfreeze a bit to allow her to help him without getting angry, he had gone and intentionally hurt her.<p>

But was it really all of his fault?

Of course she wanted to say yes, that she hadn't done anything wrong and that she only wanted to help but she really should have known better. Something had snaked its way into him and seriously upset him and though she had tried at what she thought was help, in all honesty she had backed him into a corner. It was only natural that he retaliated. She didn't want that to happen again but prior to her previous reservation she still felt like she needed to know what was bothering him.

Chris was right, she frowned unhappily, she really was a fixer.

Tentatively she looked over at him to see his head turned up and eyes fixed on the ceiling. His head dropped and he turned to her, his anger having been dissipated. She averted her attention to the closed doors and never felt his eyes leave her face. When the elevator stopped the doors didn't open, needing to be opened from the inside and he made no move to push the button, still looking at her.

She sighed irritably and turned to him, "What?"

"I..." He trailed off and she hissed through her teeth; every moment with this man was proving to be more and more nerve wracking as time went on.

"What?" She repeated and still he said nothing averting his eyes to the floor, she let out a growl of irritance and slammed her finger down on the button to open the doors. She walked out in to the dark hallway but before she could get too far his voice echoed behind her.

"I- " His eyes burned into her back and he dropped his voice, "I'm sorry."

She froze in the darkness, not knowing exactly why the fact that he had said that had her so bothered. She wanted to be angry at him and she honestly didn't think he'd apologize so she figured it would be easy to ignore him if he was an ass. Admitting that he was wrong seemed so beneath him that she didn't think he would. It confused her and in turn it made her anger at him fizzle. She began to find that this man, with all of his mystery and his topsy turvy attitude intrigued her to the point where she had no idea how to take him. He could say one thing at one moment and do something completely different. To her it felt like that he was very adamant about projecting something but when it came down to it a war raged on inside him between admitting his weakness as a human and blocking all emotions or feelings completely. It was either one extreme or the other. He was either very angry or so docile he seemed like a robot.

What had happened to him?

She stayed put and as much as wanted to run back there and slap him in the face she found she couldn't really do that. She didn't want to forgive him when she knew that there was a high probability that he could definitely do something like that again. He thought he had his emotions locked away safely but she knew better. He just had them bottled up with an unstable cork, when enough pressure built it would all explode.

She turned back to him, beckoning for him to follow her with her chin. He walked up to her and she gave him a small smile, her face illuminated by the panel of lights above the elevator, "It's okay." No point in stirring the pot.

He merely nodded and it seemed like a long time until they found the elevator that would take them to the sublevel. Claire didn't see the point in putting an elevator to the basement on the second floor and not one on the first floor but she didn't say anything. As soon as they caught sight of it and they had located the switch to power it on, they were ready to go down.

"I'm just glad we haven't...met anything yet." She sighed, holding her gun up as they rounded the corner to go from the small power room back to the elevator. He stiffened next to her and grabbed her elbow to stop her from moving, his face trained on the ceiling.

"What is it?" She whispered, concern taking her face. He didn't speak but pointed up at the ceiling.

_'Something's up there,' _He mouthed at her and she looked up as well. Then she heard it, something stomping around above them, the footsteps hard and unhurried. Now that she was listening they came crystal clear in her ears and she wondered how she hadn't heard it before. A sense of dread spread through her body with tingles that caused her to break out in goosebumps and her hair stand on it's ends.

_'Let's go.' _She spoke soundlessly making a motion with her gun towards the end of the hall, wanting to find this transport and get out of this city as quickly as possible. Of course she knew it was never that easy, it never had been and it never would be. Umbrella had a way of ruining even the best thought out and carefully executed plans, it wouldn't make sense if they were able to escape unscathed.

'Not that I'm unscathed anyway,' she thought bitterly. Her shoulder throbbed and stung painfully and she knew that it would be a long time before she was able to move it again and even longer before she'd be able to use it properly. Figures.

A creaking sound shot both of their eyes in the direction it came from. A gurgling noise came from behind the elevator doors and the creaking, squealing noise became louder. She raised her gun up at the doors, as he did and slowly watched as the doors came apart. When they were half open a flood of undead stumbled over eachother, obviously having sniffed out the fresh live flesh of the two not among their ranks.

"Shit!" She cried out as they were pushed into the wall, the army of rotten beings shuffling towards them, "There are too many!" She shot several shots into the head of several zombies, collapsing in front of the others but it wasn't doing any good. They couldn't limit their numbers, especially not when they were so low on ammo. She had told him they should have stocked up before they left but he denied it and now where were they?

About five seconds from becoming a tasty snack.

"Claire!" He cried out and despite the shock of his first name coming out of his mouth she quickly ran over to him, holding a door open for her, "In here. Hurry."

When she was inside he quickly followed and slammed the heavy metal door shut, pulling the table that held some papers and a microscope against it. He didn't know how long it would hold or what they were supposed to do now.

"They never make it easy do they..." He spoke to himself under his breath, still standing in front of the table. He turned to the woman behind him and watched as she dug around the seemingly empty room. He wanted to roll his eyes at her as she popped open every locker and cabinet, probably looking for more weapons. No pistol, nor shotgun, nor machine gun was found but she did find something interesting. Her voice called out to him from the other side of the room.

"I found something, what is it?" She picked it up and showed it to him. It appeared to be a gun, shiny and metal with black and yellow stripes painted along it, with two large tines resembling the socket of an electrical cord at the end. Claire had never seen it before, but he had many times. He picked it up and held it.

"It's a sparkshot, basically a high powered cattle prod. Delivers a strong bolt of electricity to the victim. I guess they used it to keep their experiments in line."

"Can it kill?" She looked up at him with interest and he nodded.

"It can if you kick it up high enough and hit something at least twice. It's not supposed to be meant as a direct contact weapon but it can be used that way if you get close enough. The smell is terrible though."

"It's not like we have any other options. Is it battery powered?"

"Yeah, rechargable but I don't know where any stations would be so we're going to have to use it carefully. Stun them with it and then use the gun to take them out. Or-"

"Or we could just stun them and run for it?"

"We could," He went silent as he pondered his options. The weapon cache was located in the 2nd Basement floor if his memory served him correctly, he just hoped they could make it there in one piece and that it wasn't empty. The transit train was on the 4th basement floor, with the registration being on the third. He could remember the layout of this place as if a map had been imprinted in his head, he had spent a lot of time here, after all.

Needless to say there would be a lot of running around they would have to do and if there were B.O.W's on this floor, there had to be more. Indefinately they would need more firepower. He looked at the redhead, "I'll go and clear them out, when I call you make a run for the elevator. If I'm not behind you don't worry, I'll catch up."

"No. I am not leaving you here." She stood up and placed her hands on her hips, looking absolutely mortified that he had even suggested that.

"Claire..."

"No!" She yelled over the sound of the banging from the hallway and he met her eyes, glassy with unshed tears. She couldn't do that again, she was not going to lose another person, she didn't care how much they didn't like eachother or that he didn't trust her nor she him. She could not live with another life on her conscience, even though something told her that it wasn't completely that. Her 'fear' of losing another person was unfounded with him, she knew he'd be okay, she knew he could handle it. No, it wasn't that at all.

She was scared. Scared of being alone, scared of running into a trap, scared of dying.

Scared of this being another Rockfort/Antarctica incident. Scared of being written off as another trivial casualty, scared of being lost in this place forever.

"Listen to me. I need you to get down to that weapon's cache. If we both try to get through them at the same time they'll overpower us but if I distract them and you go we can stand a chance." He half yelled but quieted down once he realized that she was upset. It struck a chord in him, those big eyes sparkling sadly like an ocean full of glitter and he hated that it did, he knew that being in close proximity to her was softening him again. Just like it did the first time... "Claire, I'll be right behind you."

She didn't speak but merely blinked rapidly and nodded once. She handed him the sparkshot back and went to hand him the gun he had let her use but he shook his head and she put it back in her holster. He went to pull the table away from the door but her voice stopped him for a second, "Will you at least tell me your name now?" He dropped his head down slightly but pulled the table from the door before he actually spoke. He placed his hand on the door knob but didn't turn it.

"Mike." Before she could say anything he threw open the door and ran into the pit of cannibals.

* * *

><p>When she heard his voice calling her she bolted, shoving the one zombie in her way to the ground before stepping on it's throat, the disgusting squelch it made not even bothering her. She threw her self into the elevator quickly and despite what he had told her she didn't close the doors immediately, a spark of hope that he could get in with her still holding her from hitting that button.<p>

"What are you doing? Go. Go!" She saw him from behind the crowd of zombies, meticulously killing them as fast as he could. Shock. Shoot. With a strangled cry she slammed the button but not before one of the undead individuals fell into the elevator, it's legs being cut off as the doors shut with finality. It lay there a moment before trying to pull itself along towards her and grabbed her leg. One well placed bullet in it's rotten head ended it's so called life and Claire had to hold back the stomach contents threatening to come up from it being so close to her.

The smell of rotten flesh and blood and something decidedly disgusting filled the cabin and she hit the button for the second basement floor morosely, riding down and bearing her back into the wall as some maggots surfaced from the corpse's brain.

She hated maggots, she didn't know why. She didn't care for flies but they didn't disgust her like maggots did. The sight of the tiny scavengers squirming about as they ate, making it appear as if the brain itself was moving, it gave her the sensation of things crawling on her and she shuddered. The ride down was slow and long and while she kept her distance from the dead/undead/whatever the hell it was now, zombie on the floor, the fact that he was up there and she had left him behind had her stomach churning.

She was being terribly selfish she knew and normally it never bothered her to leave someone behind when she knew they would be just fine. Her injury had her at a significant disadvantage and she knew when she was weakened and now was such an instance. She wanted him there by her side to have her back and she cursed her weakness when she reminded herself that he probably didn't have her back at all. He had his own back.

"Mike." She said his name quietly, wondering if it really was his name at all. 'mhalloway' must have been his registration but it still didn't answer the question. For all she knew, he could be a thousand different people. The sound of the elevator coming to a stop and the slight jolt rattled her. She hit her shoulder on the wall, hissing under her breath as she stepped out slowly, her gun and flashlight aimed at the dark hall. She couldn't hold the light under the gun like she usually could so she had it positioned against her chest with her slinged arm; it would be incredibly difficult to aim properly and shoot like this.

Her face was set in strong determination as she moved down, checking the doors for any sign that they were weapon's storages. She listened closely as she checked, half-relieved and half-worried when she was met with silence. Even the floor above her was silent.

A half an hour passed by with no interaction of any kind as she walked down the halls checking each and every door for a sign or plaque or anything. She reached the end of the hall dejectedly realizing that she'd have to go back through the long series of halls and actually look inside the rooms. As she turned around, deciding to look for a power switch and then the proper room, the sound of metal grated on her ears. She froze, eyes darting around searching for the origin of the noise but nothing seemed out of place.

'Okay, Claire. Calm down. It's all in your head.' She turned around and jumped back letting out a strangled yell as something fell from the vent in the ceiling. Her balance was off and she fell back, barely catching herself on the wall.

"You alright?"

She looked up to see Mike standing there, a little bloody but otherwise fine, extending his hand to her. Eyes still wide she ignored his hand and pulled herself up.

"You scared the hell out of me! What were you doing in the vent?"

"Getting away. What are you doing on the floor?"

He didn't recieve a response other than a roll of eyes but didn't wait for one anyway, "Did you find the cache?"

"No. Did the door have any kind of label or plaque on it?"

"It did once... Come on, I'll find it."

The two set down the hall and in a matter of minutes Claire found herself in a very large weapon's storage. Everything from Crossbows to Assault Rifles lined the walls, above cases and boxes of various ammunition and there were even two bazookas behind a glass case.

"Nice job." Claire smiled at the man next to her and he shrugged. Wasting no time they set about grabbing everything they could carry that wouldn't slow them down. Pleased with a brand new Samurai Edge handgun on her chest, a Grenade launcher strapped to her back, and a set of dual submachine guns on her hips, Claire finished putting all of the ammo in it's appropriate places while her partner did the same. She wasn't sure how she was going to use the grenade launcher with only one arm but she'd make do. If anything she would carry it for him. Chancing a glance at him in the semi-dark, she saw him checking his belt for something. She handed him _Matilda_ and he took it, reloading it and inwardly relishing the feel of it in his hand. He had forgotten for a moment that he had given it to her, considering he always had it on him.

Once they were restocked and reloaded they set out towards the elevator that would take them to the registration room on the B3 floor. The hall to the elevator was quiet, nothing shuffling around below or above them and Claire thought they were in the clear to make it across the hall. Unfortunately fate had a way of showing her up when she least expected it, fate being in the form of a sickeningly familiar claw thrusting through the wall. Only this time it had four giant talons and was even larger than before. How exactly had she forgotten that fire plus tyrant equals bigger tyrant?

"Oh god, not again!" She cried as she and Mike were seperated between the sharp extremity and she lurched back against the wall, trying to avoid being ripped in half. She unloaded everything she had in her gun and reloaded, with him doing the same but the tyrant just seemed to bounce back from every shot.

"The only way we're going to get rid of this thing for good is to blow it to pieces. We have to get downstairs!" Mike said rushing forward past it and towards Claire, all the while popping shotgun shell after shotgun shell into it's face. The tyrant gave a pained wail and collapsed, although they were far from safe as long as they were anywhere near it. Just as they were making a break for the elevator every light in the hall went out, leaving them in pitch blackness.

"What just happened?" She asked Mike but he was busy with the elevator, trying to pry it open with his bare hands. Being turned around he didn't see the B.O.W running straight for him, luckily for him Claire did and she popped it in the face with several pistol shots, sending it into the wall no more than six feet from them. The weight of a tyrant crashing into it shattered the wall into plaster and wood debris, the tyrant stumbled into the next room.

Mike had managed to get the elevator door open big enough for them to fit through one by one but apparently the power outage had somehow caused the elevator car to drop down to the next floor, leaving a long and possibly dangerous drop. Claire's eyes went wide as she estimated the drop down and she looked to Mike who was currently fastening something around his belt.

"I-I can't make that. There's no way I can do it with only one arm." She said, knowing that she'd have a chance if she had the use of both her arms. Unfortunately her injury left her at a severe disadvantage. A loud roar echoed through the hall; the tyrant was up again so they'd have to get to the next floor down fast or else they'd be nothing but human skewers. Her partner had finished securing a clamp at the floor of the elevator and strapped it to his belt.

"I know," He said simply before grabbing her, eliciting a strange look from the redhead, "Just hold on to me." Claire hesitated, noticing the heat of his body against hers, but wrapped her good arm around his neck even so. Now was not the time to be entertaining such thoughts, not with a manufactured killer on their heels.

'Or maybe not ever, ya know, since he's one of Umbrella's _dedicated_ employees. Chris would have a shit fit if he knew I was even thinking about something like that.'

Despite her inner arguement she couldn't ignore the way his arms were tight around her, or how warm he felt, or that even though he had been covered in several different body fluids all night she could still smell his warm and spicy cologne, beneath coppery blood and musky - but not wholly unpleasant - sweat. Without any warning he hopped over the side and she tightened her hold around him, her other hand clinching into his shirt front. As his foot caught the wall to stop them and he began to lower them down his face brushed against hers and the slight stubble on his cheek tickled her own. At one point - possibly when they took the initial fall - she had wrapped one of her legs around his waist, though she hadn't remembered when she had done it. She really hadn't been trying to notice but it was unavoidable not to feel the hard muscles under her hands. His neck was tight and she could feel his broad shoulder muscles flexing as he rappeled them down towards the elevator car. Although her mind was screaming at her to stop it, her body was reacting hotly to what it had recognized as an attractive alpha-male against it. She could feel her face growing warm as he bit his lip in concentration, obviously trying to ensure that they got down safely on a harness clearly meant for one, though it left an unmistakably sexy impression on her. He turned his head towards her, noticing the color in her face that had raised several shades.

"Are you alright? You look like you have a fever." The tyrant above them had gone quiet but it hadn't meant that it had abandoned it's search, still he was thankful that it hadn't come down on top of them. Maybe it was finding another route around? He didn't know but he did know that they had to get out of this place as fast as possible.

"Ah-yeah. I'm fine. Just-" Her words were cut short as the wind was knocked out of her and suddenly they were plummeting towards the unforgiving metal car beneath them. She tried to hold onto him but she lost her grip and bounced into the wall, screaming out when her shoulder collided on impact.

"Claire!" He cried out as he caught a piece of broken ladder jutting from the shaft wall to stop his fall. At the very last moment he grabbed out, catching the closest thing he could reach on her. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the elevator shaft and now she was hanging on by literally a thread of her black t-shirt. The makeshift sling had been untouched as the sleeve on that side was still intact but everything else had torn away, leaving him with an eyeful of ample cleavage. Now she was hanging by the remains of the shirt, threatening to tear from the weight and he was sure that the fabric digging into her armpit under her injured arm was uncomfortable. He really wanted to laugh at the fire red bra-clad woman hanging from his hand but he couldn't considering how if he didn't get her back up she'd possibly fall to her death. The look on her face was that of pure mortification, whether it was because now she was almost completely nude from the waist up or because if she slipped she'd be dead, he was unsure.

"Damnit, my shirt!" Well now he knew, although it was probably both.

"Forget that, you have to pull yourself up. Come on." He tightened his grip and fought against pulling her up himself, if he put anymore force on the fabric in his hand it would tear indefinitely and he'd drop her.

"O-Okay..." She reached up to grab the lip of the ladder he was grabbing onto with his other arm but it was too far away. Her fingers were trembling and her breathing was sporadic. She knew she should have been more apt to face this now than she had been before but all of the incidents she had braved she had come out more or less unscathed. Now she was hanging half naked from a flimsy piece of t-shirt with a broken arm and it wasn't someone who she saw as completely trustworthy on the other end. It wasn't Leon or Steve up there, it was a known Umbrella employee, one that she knew had murdered William Birkin in cold blood which promptly set the plan in motion for said dead researcher to inject himself with a terrible virus which lead to a little girl almost getting killed. He wasn't a good man, she shouldn't be with him at all.

She tilted her face up towards his and saw his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed, his hand in a death grip trying to keep from letting her slip from his fingers.

This man, the killer, the _bad_ guy had saved her ass more times than she count that night, something she had simultaneously forgotten and remembered throughout the evening. Her teeth bared into her lip, almost drawing blood, and she slung her body up with every ounce of strength she could manage. He lost his grip on her shirt but caught her wrist instead, pulling her up the wall and she latched onto it right beneath him

"Holy shit that was close," She breathed heavily, the crap was still rightly scared out of her, "Well, now that I'm up here what do we do?" As much as she wanted to cover herself up, to do so would mean to fall and staying alive was something worth losing her modesty over. It wasn't like it mattered, she doubted he was looking anyway.

"We still have to get down to that car, there's another ladder rung a few feet down. Try to climb to it." His voice was thick and hoarse for reasons she didn't know. The truth was that he wasn't as unaffected to her unclothed state as much as she believed. She had raised up on the rung and her chest was directly under his face. He couldn't lie, he had a thing for girls without their shirts on.

However appealing he found her, there was still the matter of getting downstairs in one piece. That was top priority, perky tits in his face or not. He never really had this problem before, maybe it was the adrenaline.

God, she smelled good...

'Head in the game, numb nuts! Stop thinking with your dick and get the hell out of here.'

He shook his head as he followed her one-armed climb down the broken ladder. Fortunately she made it down safely; she didn't really have anymore clothes to spare. The thought made him chuckle inwardly, but he kept it to himself. Finally she got down to the very last rung, the drop to the elevator car still steep but she managed to fall down and land on her feet. As soon as he dropped down and started unlatching the small door at the top a loud wail shook the elevator shaft. Before he managed to pull it open a large piece of metal shrapnel - possibly from the wall on the upper floor - was falling towards them. He pushed Claire to the side as the sharp metal tore right into one of the cables holding up the car and it snapped, tilting the car to the side enough to exaggerrate the strain on the other cable. From above something that sounded like an explosion echoed throughout the elevator shaft and before Claire or Mike could do anything or even move, the huge humanoid creature was falling fast, using it's claw as a brake, shredding the wall as it rode down. Claire let out a half whimper half scream and he desperately tried to yank the attic-style door open but it wouldn't budge. In it's descent down the tyrant's claw caught the last cable, tearing through the heavy cord of wire and metal like it was yard.

"Mike..." He looked up to see the redheaded woman's eyes wide in terror as the car began to free fall down who knew how many floors. Claire hit the metal surface hard as the momentum slung her down, crying out in pain. Damn, if she kept hitting that shoulder she might retain serious nerve damage - or at least more serious than she already had. He didn't know if the fourth basement floor was the last floor or not, he'd only been down to that floor, no farther. With their stomachs flat both of them had death grips on the elevator, falling so quickly down that they remained just out of reach of the B.O.W screaming and grinding down through the shaft above them.

Then he saw it through a space between the car and the shaft wall, a few feet down, an open elevator door. They had no choice but to make the jump and he gave no thought to what was in the hall beyond it because whatever was out there couldn't be as bad as where they were now.

"We have to jump!" He yelled out over the shrill noise of metal shredding, hoping that she could hear him.

"Jump? Jump to what?" She cried back, panic etched in her face.

"Just trust me, when I say jump, just jump forward as far as you can."

"But I-"

"Don't argue with me. You jump when I say so, that's an order." His voice was hard, inlaid with the exact toughness that she expected from him. Something about his determined expression made her lose the reservations that she had about following him blind. There was no choice but to trust him at this point. A hardened expression took her face and she nodded hard, as if silently letting him know that she would follow his lead. He hadn't lead her astray yet.

She looked to him for the signal as he yanked the pin out of a frag grenade and threw it up.

"Now!" Without hesitation she leapt forward just as he said, her foot nearly catching the lip of the edge. She hit the ground hard, without any real form of stopping herself from colliding with the floor, somehow sliding on her back. Seconds after she stopped, she felt something on top of her, holding her tightly against the floor. She almost panicked, thinking it was another zombie but looking up her showed this wasn't the case. Suddenly a huge explosion shook the room, flames spitting out of the open shaft like a broken spiget. Time seemed to move incredible slow for the few minutes as her eyes locked with his and she noted the wince he made when some burning ash hit his back and arms. Without knowing why, she brought her hand up to wipe away some blood below his eye unconciously trailing her fingers across his lips. His emerald orbs darkened to a dark forest green for a moment and his mouth parted slightly as tiny pieces of metal and ash fell around them. If Claire were analyzing this from the outside she would probably note that it seemed all too cliche, a cheesy movie moment that she would have normally rolled her eyes at had she seen it on some melodrama Lifetime movie. Now she couldn't deny the speed that her heart was racing or that she could feel his pulse quickening above her. She couldn't lie and say that in that brief moment if he would have taken the plunge and kissed her that she wouldn't have given into him. Life is so different when you're the one living it and not watching it happen.

Soon that tiny moment was over and he broke the gaze first, getting up and extending a hand to help her to her feet. Whatever _that_ was seemed to dissipate in a matter of seconds, leaving behind them both with questions unanswered.

"You okay?" She asked quietly as she stood up, readjusting her sling.

"Yeah... I'm fine." His voice seemed distant although he was standing right in front of her.

Claire nodded and made sure she still had her guns on her. The grenade launcher she had must have been lost in the elevator, which would account for the sheer size of the explosion. The submachine guns and pistol she had were still on her person and for a moment she felt better.

That was until she realized that she was now perusing around topless, in front of a man she almost just kissed. Her arms went around her quickly, as if it would matter, as if he hadn't already seen it or hadn't been pressed against her moments before.

Okay, that was enough of that.

He let out a small chuckle and removed his vest and began to unbutton his now sleeveless, blood stained and half charred shirt, causing the redhead's eyes to widen. She exhaled slowly as he handed it to her and she took it quickly, buttoning it up. With only a black muscle shirt and the vest he was putting back on she was now given a eyeful of hard and very well toned arms and shoulders. Before he put the vest on she noticed that the tank top hugged his midsection in all the right ways and Claire found herself staring for a second but caught herself.

"Thank you." She said at a loss of simply nothing else to say. His only acknowledgement was a nod as he checked the halls thoroughly. Luckily for them they had jumped to exactly the right floor, sublevel three. He looked towards her and caught her fiddling with the top button on his shirt. When he finally spoke, he was nothing but business although something was bubbling down below the surface that he would have rather kept down.

"Let's get going, the registration room is right down that hall. I've had enough of this place to last me a lifetime."


	4. Disconnected

_Take hold of your life and in time you'll be far away_

_Let go of the hate for my name_

_And sing songs for our escape_

After finding the power grid for the floor they entered the registration room with guns raised and ready. One quick peak inside of the room verified that it was clear and it's only inhabitants was a powered down computer against the wall and an unidentifiable machine rusting in the corner. Nothing dangerous seemed to be lurking on this floor but true to their survivalist natures they remained on the defensive, although it left one to wonder if it wasn't against eachother. Their time together was drawing to an indefinite close and though Claire was quite pleased that soon she'd be long gone from this place she felt a sense of loss, though she didn't know why. She'd only been with him for half a day but she felt her previous assessment of him crumbling into a million pieces, though she knew he didn't do everything he did just for her. All this did was make her confused and it was that confusion that caused her sense of loss. Perhaps she wanted to get to know him better maybe if just to confirm to herself if nothing else that he wasn't some evil person.

She knew he needed her to access the train to get out but she needed him to for that exact same reason, so if he was selfish so was she. She wanted to get away from this Raccoon City do-over just as much and who wouldn't? Still, maybe she had a thing for men who saved her ass. She would have gotten attached to Leon too probably, had he not had his head shoved so far up that Ada woman's ass that he couldn't breathe. She had gotten attached to Steve too, his blind bravery and the way he so obviously had a thing for her and went out of his way - and safety zone - to prove it seemed like just the thing she needed. Of course there really was nothing between she and Leon and Steve was...gone, so she had no reason to believe that because she seemed to be getting attached to Mike that anything would ever come of it. What was wrong with her exactly? She couldn't find a decent man interesting unless he went through some kind of biological disaster with her? Several times Jill and Rebecca had tried to set her up and most of the time they were really nice and good guys but everytime it had ended the same way. 'Oh, no thanks.' and 'I'm not ready for a relationship right now.' seemed to be her staple rejection excuses. Was she so afraid of this whole Umbrella connection that she couldn't even be with a man who wasn't as scarred by their terror as she was?

Seriously, what was wrong with her?

"-print right there."

Claire's eyes snapped towards the man standing over the computer and was brought back to real life again. He had some kind of tablet in his hand and she narrowed her eyes.

"...what?" Claire's face reddened but he just rolled his eyes, obviously disliking having to repeat himself. No one liked being caught not paying attention.

"I said: I need your finger print right there. Pay attention, kid." The flush of her cheeks faded at the nickname and for some reason it annoyed her. Was that how he thought of her? Just some kid who was tagging along? Probably, it was how she thought of Steve when she met him. Kind of like Sherry, she felt like she had to go after the hotheaded teenager - though he wasn't much younger than she - to ensure he wouldn't get killed. Of course after spending time with him she was shown that Steve wasn't really just some testosterone infused teenager, in the end he had shown more bravery and courage than most men far older than he. Without wasting anymore time and whatever good nerves she had thinking about the fallen boy who had become a man in less than a day, she pressed her index finger to the scanner. It beeped twice to ensure that it was done and he moved over to allow her to input her information into the computer. It took less than a few minutes before they were both granted access to the fourth sublevel and with no more delays in their way they headed down the hall towards the final elevator.

Luckily this one was in perfect working order and still intact, no infected or tyrants to speak of. Was this it? Was this the last time she'd ever see him? It wasn't like she was worried about this before, when they first crossed paths hours ago and in fact she had been looking forward to getting away from him. As far as she was concerned, his involvement in the situation was heavier than she would like to be a part of and if anything she was all about parting ways. Now, after several close calls that he had saved her ass from, it didn't seem as if she was looking forward to it so much. Not that she was interested in hanging around this place but it was just something else, something she couldn't define.

The elevator ride seemed all too quick and she reprimanded herself inwardly for even thinking about such a stupid thing. The air was tense around them and she knew that there was something he wanted to say, though honestly she hoped he didn't, she really didn't want to hear it. Instead she breeched a subject that she felt would keep it away from her, whatever this was that she was dealing with.

"You think that thing is coming back?" Her voice was quiet and safe, free of any emotion she might have felt. It was just easier to break the ties, if in fact there were any.

"I doubt it but we don't need to wait around to find out." As a safety measure he reloaded _Matilda_, cradling the handgun in a tight but gentle hold. Sometimes it seemed like he loved that gun.

"Agreed. Where are we going anyway?" She turned to look at him and judging by the look on his face something she had said had struck a chord.

"There's a BSAA safehouse at the end of the route, two miles south of the train stop. They'll contact your family and make sure you're okay." He didn't have to say what was implied, she already knew it to begin with but it didn't bother her any less. Instead of asking him where he was going to go - though she knew already - she fell back to silence, wanting to get on that train and get to Chris as fast as possible. The virus leak was probably already known about to the anti-bioterrorism agencies and since the BSAA was among the largest and most widely known she assumed her brother already knew. For all she knew he could be running through Fargo looking for her as she was getting ready to leave. Still she felt as if she had to ask him something.

"Where are you getting off at?" She lowered her voice to almost a whisper as the elevator stopped, looking to him and watched his features harden immediately. His voice was autonomous and cold.

"I'll be gone long before we hit the station."

So that was it then, he was probably going to duck out without her even noticing, not that she expected anything else. Of course he was going to leave the first chance he got, what did she think he was going to do? Hold her hand and stay with her until her brother got there?

God, that was ridiculous.

The train deployment area resembled the one under Raccoon in great amounts. Big metal platforms with overhead bridges crossed over one solitary train, the dim and rusted Umbrella symbol adorning the front. He mentioned something about locating the self-destruct for the facility and she absently nodded and went off to get the train ready to go and open the platform gate. She ran around to the gate, flipping on the the switches and boarded the train, checking to make sure that everything was in working order before leaning against the seat and taking a deep breath. Finally, it was over, another nightmare survived; another notch to add to the already frigtening long list of terrors she had encountered.

_**"The emergency self-destruct sequence has been activated. All personnel please proceed to the proper evacuation platforms in the lower levels immediately."**_

Every other time she had heard that voice, female and cool but completely devoid of emotion, terror would rip through her. Thoughts of being trapped in a surely condemned space, soon to explode at any moment would ripple through her mind like a ominous mantra. Now she could only feel relief, another deplorable facility would be taken down and she would be gone before it happened. A minute later the sliding boarding door opened with a hiss and the blood covered man she had been referring to as her partner entered before the doors hissed close the same way they opened. He looked at her and slid a hand across his forehead, letting loose a little 'phew' and she couldn't help the small smile that upturned her lips. Now they could get the hell out of here.

Of course, like everything else Umbrella hindered, sudden safe passage was on the list tonight of things Claire wouldn't have. No more than two minutes had passed since they had started the train and the final countdown began, warning them that they had five minutes to get to a maximum safe distance, as what felt like an earthquake shook the entire train, pitching both of them almost over to the metal floor. The quake was followed by an anguished wail bordering on a scream; one that was coming from the rear most train car.

It was just like Raccoon all over again, something horrendous - the possibly further mutated tyrant most likely - had attached itself to the back. A last ditch effort to take down the ones who had scorned it. Well at least it wasn't William, that last mutation had been so disgusting that it had ensured her nightmares for weeks after.

"I guess we spoke too soon," Claire said, checking to ensure that the power was running and that the brakes were okay. That was something to be thankful for at least, but still there was the matter of the BOW they had failed numerous times to eliminate. He had come back for seconds...or thirds...or fourths. She had lost track. "You think we can disconnect the last car from here?" It had worked last time, though only from the actual connector, but it had worked nonetheless.

"No, this train is too old. Look, stay here and make sure nothing goes wrong up here. I'm going to go take care of our little friend." Claire's eyes widened as Mike checked the ammo on his weapons, but she said nothing, feeling as if this was a bad idea. She couldn't stop him though when he was halfway to the next car she called out to him.

"Wait!" It sounded like her voice had cracked but she ignored it and he turned around. Without hesitation she pulled the grenade launcher off of her belt and tossed it to him. She watched as he caught it and turned back towards the door, walking through the threshold silently. In a breathless heap she fell down into the seat, trying to fight the urge to go after him and make sure he was okay. She'd stay because he asked her to but the moment that something went wrong she'd be through that door faster than he was.

All she had to do was hope that nothing went wrong.

_'Yeah right...'_

* * *

><p>The two cars leading up to the last car - the one the noise had come from - were pitch dark and looming in a creepy silence. He wasn't afraid, he was Mr. Death after all. Though he wasn't sure how true that nickname rang for him, just because he'd slipped through incidents otherwise fatal to all others on every team or squad he had been on didn't mean that he simply could not die.<p>

He was still human.

The truth of it all was that sometimes he wondered if his survival was in some way damning others around him to death. It hadn't bothered him previously, except for one past life he had been desperate to leave behind, because war is not fair and their survival was their responsibility.

But for some reason the Redfield girl had grown on him, like mold or a bad infection, somehow she'd dug her way to where his humanity still lingered. Now he felt like he had to keep her from getting killed, though he hated being depended on and he didn't know why he cared.

If something did happen to her it wasn't as if he'd be crushed but somehow he'd feel like he failed, though what he'd be failing was a mystery to him. Maybe because he had taken her willingly and felt like he owed her or something... What exactly would he owe her? If anything she owed him. He didn't have anymore time to reflect upon this further as the door slid open and the car he was about to metal grate he was about to step on cracked in half, revealing a ridiculously huge, bloodstained claw. He leapt back into the other car at the very last second, catching a loose shoestring on the grate and falling onto the metal with a thump. Somehow the thing got wrapped around the metal and he frantically pulled at it, trying to free it desperately as giant black shadow loomed over him. The tyrant's claw was already in the air, preparing to swing down and deliver the fatal blow.

_'Shit.'_

In what could only be described as a perfectly timed reflex he whipped out his combat knife and with only one swipe he cut the shoestring and delivered a slice to the tyrant's leg. It wasn't enough to do any damage but it did free him and caused the monster to stumble back, it's claw catching the wall behind it. He scrambled to his feet in a hurry, allowing him to get a real good look at the thing in front of him. It's head was tilted and it's previously large body was even grander, covered in what seemed to be metal plates that might have gotten fused into it during the explosion. There was a giant gaping hole in the center of it's chest, surrounded by several long and thin spines, creating a barrier between the actual hole and the chest. It was at least two feet taller now and half of it's previous shoulder span wider, having mutated to further allow the virus room for expansion. The area on it's mutilated face where it's eyes had been had closed, appearing as if it had never had eyes at all, and in it's mouth was some sort of cyst like object. It pulsed repulsively and Mike's lip twitched in disgust.

In an even greater display of superhuman speed, the tyrant was right in front of him before he could even draw his weapon, the one hand that wasn't deformed swung back and into his face, sending him back to the ground.

The hit was harder than any blow he had ever experienced and he could feel his cheekbone crack upon impact, the residual swelling as he tried to get to his feet starting immediately.

"Alright, fucker, you wanna play like that? Let's play." His voice was pained but he didn't let it show as he flipped upwards, delivering a kick to the tyrant's abdomen. It stumbled briefly, which gave him just the right amount of time to pull his handgun from the holster, shooting it in the cyst in three-round bursts. The creature fell back but only momentarily before it began to charge towards him, it's shear-like claw primed for penetration. Mike delayed one half a second reloading his gun - somehow he hadn't had the foresight to ensure it was reloaded before - and just as he went to deliver a shot that wouldn't have hit in time, a loud pop sounded from behind. The tyrant cried out again and fell back and Mike's head snapped back, eyes landing on the disheveled but strangely beautiful redhead, covered from head to toe in dirt and blood and ash. The grip on her gun loosened as her eyes caught his for a minute.

"Looks like I came back here just in time. He was about to skewer you." Her smirk was small and though the jibe was good-natured he couldn't help but feel a bit miffed.

"Thanks for the update," The tyrant had it's bearings again and seemed to be keeping it's distance, possibly realizing that a head on attack only meant pain. If those things were even logical at all. Together he and Claire pumped at least another clip's worth into it, though for some reason it wasn't doing anything to halt it's menacing yet slow strides. He was seriously fed up with this shit, seriously. "Didn't I tell you to stay at the front?" He reloaded again, almost groaning out when he realized that this was his last clip of handgun ammo and that his machine gun wasn't on him. He probably lost it when he got knocked back, where it was now was anyone's guess. The grenade launcher was gone too - great.

"You sounded like you needed the help." She said simply, as if it would soothe his discomfort of her not listening to him - again.

"I'm handling it." Barely... Shit, he was going to be in trouble if something didn't stop this thing. His eyes searched for something, anything, that he could use to get the tyrant off the train.

Claire didn't have time to respond as the tyrant charged back into the darkened part of the car and then ran from the shadows, barreling into her and knocking her into the wall. With a cry she fell to the floor in a heap, whimpering as pain shot through her body.

"Claire! Are you alright?" He called from behind her but she couldn't hear him, her consciousness weaving in and out, threatening to give away. Damn it, every time she had been given a chance to show that she was more than some weak girl who needed his rescue she botched up the job. Determination etched on her face as she got to her feet, grabbing the wall for support, desperately trying to will the nausea and dizziness away. She wasn't going to let him save her again, she could hold her own. She really could. He was busy dodging and countering, barely missing that giant claw everytime. Now was her chance, if the tyrant wasn't paying attention to her maybe she could deliver a fatal blow to it...

But how?

Somehow she was going to have to lead it away from him and towards the back of the car, then she could knock it out the back.

But how? How was she going to knock something that big out of the back of a train by herself? There was no cargo deployment system to help her now, nothing big to shove this abomination away from her or from Mike, who looked like he was running out of ideas himself. Frantic blue eyes spun around the car, searching for anything that could help when she saw it.

It was like a sign from above, that someone was actually watching out for her, though she could only guess who it could be. She didn't have the time as she ran over to the so-called hidden compartment in the floor, ignoring the warning label as she pulled open the cover. With the butt of her pistol she shattered the glass, hand going to the RPG when something swift knocked her to the side. Ignoring the pain in her back, her side and everywhere else she looked up to see the tyrant standing over her, disgusting fluid dripping from it's mouth and onto her shoe. Mike was behind it, popping it with shots and it was the only thing keeping Claire alive, the tyrant was distracted enough to not be killing her at least.

"Get away from her, you ugly fuck!" The tyrant seemed to take the bait and rushed towards Mike who jumped down just in time for it to crash into the metal wall, seeming a bit dizzy as it tried to recompile itself. In an instant he was by her side, helping her up and she took his hand gratefully.

"Any ideas on how to kill this thing yet?" His voice was husky and she could feel his breath close to her face. She had to repress a shiver at the closeness, knowing that now was definitely not the time to get a cloudy mind.

"I have one that might work," She nodded in the direction of the untouched weapon snug inside of the floor, "Keep it off me and I'll-"

"No. You go back to the front, I'll take care of this thing." His voice was hard but she wouldn't budge.

"Hell no, it was my idea and I'm going to help-" Without warning, she was being pushed through the door, wind whipping wildly at her and barely caught herself in time to keep from falling over the rail or bouncing into the other car door. She heard a click and her eyes widened in parts terror and anger as she tried to yank open the obviously locked door.

"No...No, no, no. Come on!" She cried at it, banging on it and she felt a pure, animal fear flood through her. What the hell did he think he was doing? He was going to get himself killed!

"Mike! Open this-" Her voice stopped suddenly as the sound of a siren filled the train and the hollow and wide tunnel around it. The familiar female voice that soon followed only intensified her fear more.

_**"Biohazard detected in train car five. Please evacuate to the front immediately. Disconnection will begin in three minutes."**_

Disconnection? Disconnection of what? Claire's eyes shot around nervously landing on the connector below her feet. A quiet gasp that couldn't be heard over the sirens escaped her lips and she put every ounce of force into banging on the door with renewed fervor. In order to keep the detected outbreak at bay, the computer activated system was going to simply remove the car from the rest of the train and then-

Well she didn't have to wonder what would happen then.

She couldn't hear or see anything that could be happening on the other side of that door and she tried to keep herself from panicking. Somehow she had to stop the system from unlatching that car and she raced through the rest of the cars, finally reaching the controls.

She searched for any kind of manual override that would stop the disconnect and detonation process but she was coming up short as the timer reminded her of her little time left. With a loud curse she slammed her hand down on the panels and ran back toward the car. She opened the door and stood on the little walkway, her heart pounding and hoping - praying - that he had gotten off by now.

A loud explosion along with a wail caught her off guard and for a second she had thought that the car had blown, though it obviously hadn't. Her eyes widened when the latch on the door clicked and with only one minute before the timer was up she opened the door hurriedly.

She hadn't figured that the relief she'd feel would be compounded with an ache in her heart when she found it completely empty. With a sigh she dropped her eyes to the floor and caught sight of his VP70 right by her feet. She picked it up, examining it for a moment before putting it in her holster. She wasn't sure why she was keeping it, sure that she'd probably never see him again but something felt right about it. The voice overhead reminded her that she had fifteen seconds before detonation and she turned around to walk back to the front when the sound of scraping metal stopped her. Her head snapped back to find that giant claw sticking out of the side of the train car and she reached for his gun, though she didn't need to.

With a beep of finality the car's connectors began to unlatch and she fell backwards, catching herself on the rail as the car disconnected. She yanked open the door behind her and fell through, running and not stopping despite the loud explosion that sounded from behind her.

All she could think as she rode the train to sunlight was that it was over, another incident under her belt and that she should be happy she wasn't dead.

But there was a part, a bigger part than she wanted to admit, that nagged at her that she was more than disappointed that he was gone. As the pleasant rays beamed on her face she felt suddenly rejuvenated, as if she hadn't actually been up for countless hours and running around in yet another nightmare. Her hand went to rest on the gun at her hip, fingering the cool metal as her eyes met with the large building ahead of her. The BSAA safehouse.

Finally, she was safe again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: The end.**_

_**...**_

_**Haha, no I'm just kidding. You guys thought I was serious huh? Just for a second? Maybe? **_

_**Anyway, no this is nowhere near the end of the story, we are only just breaking the surface as to Claire and HUNK's relationship. So just you wait and see. Don't worry, fate just simply can't keep these two away for too long. I know this chapter was short and it took me a long time to get it to even come to an end but it needed to stop right there. I'm happy this one is over, it's been bothering me and it's still not right but ya know...that's just life I guess. Bye guys! Oh and review and somesuch. **_


	5. Crash

_._

_Lately, nothing passes lightly, a heavy hand is holding me down_

_A breeze is just an unfamiliar sound to me_

_Just close the door, it's all coming back to me_

_Be still my heart, because it's all coming back..._

* * *

><p><em>One year later...<em>

"Yes ma'am...Yes of course...It's no problem at all, ma'am...Yes and if you could just have him call me as soon as he's available we can set up that appointment...Of course, Claire Redfield...Thank you for your time ma'am." Claire sighed loudly as she dropped the phone back into the cradle. If that secretary's tone was anything to go on, she knew she wouldn't be getting a call back anytime soon. Her pen trailed lightly over her notepad, scratching off yet another name. Fifteen names she had called on the little list of possible persons of interest she had gotten from Barry and she had yet to actually speak to any of them. It seemed that relocating to Maine in order to be closer to Chris wasn't doing wonders for her career.

It didn't surprise her by any means. If it was that easy to get someone who could very well be involved in illegal weapons dealings to actually talk to her than she would have cracked this case open by now. It wasn't as if she could just waltz up to a person and ask if they had bought or sold any deadly viruses lately as easily as she could the time; these things took delicacy which was why it was left to her to get the leads while her brother went in and took down the bad guys.

She leaned back in her squeaky office chair, tapping the pen against her mouth and unceremoniously let her thoughts wander. It wasn't something she did all of the time, mostly just late at night when work was going slow but sometimes in the middle of a slow work afternoon she'd think on things completely unrelated to her job. Currently her train of thought was fixated on Chris, Jill, Barry and the other BSAA members who would be touching down in Portland tomorrow morning. It had seemed like a lifetime since she had seen them all and she couldn't wait for them to come home. Plus with the rumor that Umbrella might be establishing two new facilities in major cities overseas it would be nice to have them closer and seemingly out of harm's way. That had certainly been a stomach-dropper of a rumor to hear, even if it was unlikely that the former multinational organization would even have the resources to do so, and it was making her antsy. Time would only tell what was what in that aspect but since it had come from Leon it made her uneager to wait around and find out. The mention of Umbrella also made her think of something that she had tried to forget about; that night one year ago when she had braved the Fargo incident with one of it's former employees.

But you never really forget those sorts of things, do you?

It wasn't that she hadn't tried, but the sad truth was that it hung out in her mind at least once a day, thoughts of him accompanying it. She hadn't seen him - not that she ever expected to - or heard word about him or from him since that night, but she didn't believe for one second that he was dead. Well maybe a little bit... He deserved more than the doubt she could have; he was Mr. Death afterall. She had dreamt about him on a few occasions, including one dream that seemed and felt so real that she had trailed around the whole morning looking for any signs that he had been around.

While trying to rub away a headache that had been bothering her all morning she almost didn't hear the chime ringing from her cell phone in her pocket and took her time to answer it. The number was unknown and there was no name but she answered anyway, knowing that while it was probably a telemarketer or some teenage prank caller it might be important.

"Redfield." She said in an authoritive tone over the low hum of static.

_"Claire, where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you all morning." _The slightly accented voice on the other line seemed irritated but only mildly so.

"Carlos? Sorry, I guess I didn't hear the phone ring. 'Sup? Something wrong?" It was strange to get a call period from the ever elusive Carlos Olivera, so she knew his reason must have been good.

_"Well you could say that. The BSAA office in Augusta was broken into last night and whoever it was got away with some interesting information."_ His still irritated admission made her sit up straight, alert and aware once more and she grabbed her pen again.

"They don't know who it was? Wasn't there video surveillance?"

_"The cameras caught a glimpse of the guy before he shot them out, real sneaky dude. But there aren't any cameras in the personal file room and that's where he was."_

"Personal files? On who?"

_"Like I said, it was really strange and-"_

"On who, Olivera?"

_"You,"_ A period of silence slipped over both sides of the line as Claire's eyebrow furrowed as he continued, _"Anyways, the data log says that the guy got all of your updated information, as well as background history and current address. Everything."_

This left Claire feeling very nervous and she voiced what she was thinking, "Why would someone want personal info on me?"

_"Hell if I know but your brother is worried. The strangest thing is that when he uploaded them he deleted everything in the database on you. We tried to search for anything on you, birth records, social security information but it's all gone. It's like he deleted you permanently." _Carlos' voice took a turn from irritated to downright anxious and Claire could definitely feel it on her side. But how was that even possible?

"You said there was a video, can you send it to me?" Hurriedly she stood up, making straight for the computer room, since she didn't have one in her office yet. Her old computer had broken and she was still waiting for her new one to be delivered.

_"I guess but like I said, there isn't much to see. You should really call Chris and Jill, Claire, they're freaking the fuck out. They think your life is in danger and honestly they could be right. I'm surprised he hasn't called you yet, unless of course you ignore his calls too."_

"Stuff it, Olivera, you know I don't ignore your calls. I gotta go, I need to call Chris. Just send me that video as soon as you can okay?"

_"Alright. Just be careful, Claire, if someone went through that much trouble to get rid of you they could actually be trying to get rid of you, ya know?"_

"I will, don't worry. Are you coming in tomorrow with everyone?" She yanked on her coat, nestling the phone between her ear and shoulder, desperately trying to remain calm although inwardly she was a little freaked out. There was no way a normal person could have removed something as intricate as birth records or social security information from the BSAA office, so whoever it was must have been on the hunt to take her off the grid diligently. So what? Now she was non-existent? This whole mess was definitely going to set her back in her work, the time it would take to straighten it would be prolonged; not to mention the paranoia that was surfacing in her head.

It seemed someone wanted her gone for good and whoever it was definitely knew what they were doing.

_"Probably, unless something goes down out here. I just sent that video to you by the way. You know it's high level shit so make sure to pay up when I come calling." _He chuckled good-naturedly but it seemed forced and she forced a laugh of her own.

"Of course. See ya Carlos." She hung up without even waiting for his own farewell and logged in to her email, checking for the message that might help her figure out who apparently wanted her dead or something. It wasn't exactly something of a ridiculous assessment, unless someone just wanted it to be impossible for her to buy a car or something. This was the world of advanced bio-terrorism, anything was possible at this point.

* * *

><p><em>32 hours earlier; Alberta, Canada...<em>

"Redfield, Chris M. Valentine, Jill L. Burton, Barry W. These are our prime concerns and though there are others within the BSAA that pose certain risks, these three will possibly cause the most trouble." A man in a grey and blue pinstriped suit pointed out the three files on the whiteboard before a panel of other men in similar attire. The whole room was full of hoity-toity businessmen and their accompanying greasy looks and Special Operative code named: HUNK rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why exactly he was being forced to endure these little conferences that Guyver held but as his new employer he hadn't much of a choice. The job called for things that he'd rather not do but if he wanted to get paid, he'd do them.

Jack Guyver was really nothing more than a slimy second-rate spokesperson for Umbrella and had only been in the company for a few years, having been raised up from the lower rungs towards the top by the new CEO, Sergei Vladimir. In all reality he wasn't employed by Guyver but he was being forced - in a word - to act as his right hand man and bodyguard. If he had any stock in Umbrella's success, which he did not, he might have been irritated by being made by Vladimir to watch over this idiot. Of course he was nothing more than a bodyguard now, one who sometimes had to go on recon missions and infiltrations. Maybe Vladimir was punishing him for last year, he didn't know, but in a way he prayed for the day when Umbrella would close it's doors forever. It would be soon he knew, and he knew far more than Vladimir gave him credit for.

These morons, in their immaculate suits with their little briefcases full of nothing more than useless papers, had no idea that it wasn't just the BSAA who posed a threat to Umbrella. If Vladimir had as many eyes in places he claimed to, he'd know that Wesker himself was quite keen on watching Umbrella fall as much as his proclaimed enemy did. It was just a matter of time.

Honestly, he'd had enough of this shit and if he could, he'd probably go freelance. Umbrella paid well though, well enough to where he'd stick it out for a little longer, until he'd be doing a jig on the rubble of one of their ridiculously expensive buildings. There were other reasons why he was sticking to it anyway but to admit it out loud made him seem weaker than he would like to appear. Plus he'd be in some seriously hot shit that he'd rather avoid if at all costs.

He had managed to drown out the nasal voice of the ever ridiculous Jack Guyver for awhile, until he was brought back to attention by the mention of something that made him feel unnaturally nervous.

"Redfield has a sister, Claire, who is the founder of the ABS. We are unsure of it's exact cause but I deduct that it's use is for the reclaimation of information used by the BSAA, though it's founding is still completely unknown. Miss Redfield is in no way free from the harassment that the BSAA has caused us, having been in the purely accidental outbreak in Raccoon City of 1998. It seems she too believes the ridiculous claims that her brother seems so keen on bringing to the public's attention. The Redfield siblings have cost us far more than money, gentlemen."

He resisted the urge to snort but his insides were turning cold, the last thing he had hoped they would mention was her, though he knew they would.

"And what exactly are we to do about this Claire Redfield? If she's a possible threat like you say-" One man at the end of the table asked, his fat jowls jiggling as he spoke. HUNK had forgotten his name but he found it didn't matter.

"It's simple, Mr. Dennett, like the others, if Miss Redfield decides to get involved, I will have her silenced immediately. HUNK?" Guyser turned his attention to him, a sickly satisfied smile on his thin pointed face.

"Sir." Ever the master of saving face, that Michael Halloway. Not that there was much to see when blocked off by a gasmask/helmet combo, something he was infinitely thankful for.

"I want you to see to it that neither Chris Redfield nor any of his teammates attempt anything foolish. Simple track and observe. Should be easy for you, right?"

"Of course." God he hated submissing to this slimy scumbag but at that moment he was more concerned about what he knew he had to do. Once the little 'meeting' was over and he was dismissed, he set off immediately on the first plane to the states, the knowledge that what he needed to do burning in his mind like a hot poker.

They couldn't kill someone they couldn't find right?

* * *

><p>Despite her brother's nervous warnings, his frantic worry and her own pesky internal concern, Claire knew she couldn't sit around her office or her apartment waiting for something bad to happen. Of course he had told her to stay off the grid, not to go anywhere and wait for him and the others to touch down tomorrow morning but her body needed something hard to drink and a change of pace. Originally she had hopped on her bike in order to find a liquor store but they had been closed, something she felt odd considering it was only 6 in the evening. She could have gone to the grocery store and gotten some beers but she was going to need something harder than malt liquor to loosen up with all of the apprehension she was feeling right now. She was headed to the new club they had just opened up about 20 miles away, promising herself a few drinks and then she'd drive home. It was risky to drive home after drinking, especially on a motorcycle, and downright illegal but Claire was feeling too crappy to even care. She knew her limit and her tolerance was high, far higher than Chris' who started to fall down after three shots, so a few drinks would hardly inhibit her driving. Just a few drinks to calm her down and then home.<p>

What she hadn't counted on was that her bike would break down on some dirt road she had decided to take instead of using the main roads and nary a gas station was nearby. She cursed herself at being so unprepared that she hadn't brought any tools and whipped out her cellphone, only to find the battery as dead as could be. She leaned on her bike, rubbing her hands over her face roughly and supressed the urge to scream loudly. She'd have to walk to the nearest gas station and try to get help, she was pretty sure she had passed one about six miles from where she was. It wasn't like she hadn't walked long distances before so she knew she was physically up to it but her mental strain was wearing on her heavily. Not wasting anymore time and she pushed her bike into a patch of heavy oak trees, hiding it from view and set off back the way she came. Hoping that her somewhat skimpier than meant outfit of a tank top and short cut blue jean cutoffs wouldn't call any unwanted attention to her she tried to avoid the actual road at all costs and stuck to the grassier wooded area. Her paranoia was far too high at that moment but at least she had the gun she always carried with her strapped near her ribs, hidden by a thin black jacket.

Funny how it was his gun.

Since the night on the train when she had taken his gun, left behind presumably on accident - or so she hoped, other options included ones she didn't like to think about - she had basically carried the thing everywhere she went. She honestly couldn't tell herself why, it wasn't like she hadn't had guns of her own; several in fact, but something about carrying around his gun made her feel safer. Call it the symptom of some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder or whatever but she knew that when it came to her luck, the safer the better. Plus it was a very nice gun, if VP70s were ever bad.

Twigs and leaves crackled under her feet as the temperature dropped with the falling sun. While thankful that it was still summertime and that she had brought along her jacket, her legs were starting to chill with the wind that began to blow.

_'Come on, Claire, have you forgotten wandering through an Antarctic base with nothing more than cap sleeves and a pair of beaten blue jeans? A little summer night chill shouldn't bother you at all.'_

The reassuring voice was right but it wasn't just the wind chill that was causing goosebumps on her flesh, that other factor might have something to do with the howling in the wooded area around her that sounded a lot like-

_No... There was no way._

She shook off the feeling invading her bones, the one that whispered that there was something in those woods, something that wanted to eat her and other things. There was no biohazardous outbreak, she knew this for sure, but when a particularly agitated howl rose forth from the deep recesses of dark tree covered woods she broke off into a hazhardous and frightened run. She had managed to run right into the road, unaware of the oncoming car until it was too late and she was in the air in less than a second before her body hit the roof of the car and then the pavement hard. The only thing she heard before her eyes shut and her mind drifted off into unconciousness was the slamming of a car door and the vehement curse of someone coming towards her. All she could see was bright light in her limited vision, hopefully from the car and not from the afterlife or something like that. Her eyes closed and she choked out warm coppery fluid onto the ground.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

><p>He knew he was speeding, taking quick turns that he shouldn't have been taking at such speeds, but he had to get on that plane and back to Canada before Vladimir got suspicious. The road was quiet and so was the twilight, almost an ominous serial killer in the woods, slasher flick quiet that surrounded the lonely road. Soon the turns ended and he found himself on a paved road, thankful to not be on that dirt road anymore and he leaned down to switch on the radio, hopeful for some sort of noise to drown out the silence. He looked away for half a second and when he looked back up he had time to see a body running out in front of him and hit the brakes hard as the person rolled off his roof. He stopped just before crushing whoever had been running out in roads in the dark and threw himself out of the car quickly, swearing loudly as he ran forward into his headlights. He stopped his movement a few feet in front of what appeared to be a young woman, crumpled over on her side, and noted that she was still breathing, although shallowly. Her reddish brunette hair was obscuring the ground around her but he could see a small puddle of blood coming from where her mouth was. He wasted no time in getting to her side, turning her over slowly and trying not to aggravate any spinal injury she might have sustained due to the accident. His eyes fell to her face and wrenched back as if he had been burned.<p>

"Claire..."

It was like a sick twist of fate or some kind of unholy punishment or worse but he didn't have time to worry about the thousands of things he could be getting punished for as he checked her pulse with shaking hands. He hadn't seen her in a little over a year but there was no mistaking the beautiful yet unconcious woman on the ground beneath him. It just figured that he'd nearly kill her as a second introduction. What the hell kind of luck did he have anyway?

She was still alive and though he already had known that he couldn't help the tremendous breath of relief that exited his mouth. He picked her up carefully, trying to steady his still shaking arms and she started to squirm around, making little noises of obvious pain and coming out of her state of unconciousness; if she was moving she most likely hadn't broken her spine but he was almost sure a few of her ribs was broken. Her eyes opened up lazily and she looked up at him with glossy blue grey orbs, obviously concussed but he was sure that he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"M-Mike?" Her voice was hoarse and full of pain and she seemed as if she wasn't actually registering him as being real, as if he was just a figment of her imagination. He carried her to his car and opened the door, reassuring her softly before laying her down in the backseat.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm going to take you to a hospital. Just relax, it's alright now. I've got you."

The only response she gave him was a small dopey smile before her eyes closed again.

* * *

><p>"Are you a relative?" The man in the white doctor coat smiled at him friendly enough, though he could see some sort of distrust behind those wire-frames and in his dark brown eyes. Luckily he had removed her gun holster before bringing her in, or else there would be even more questions he didn't know if he could dodge.<p>

"I found her on the road. Is she going to be okay?" With a lack of anything else to say it had been the only thing he was sure wouldn't get the authorities on him in an instant. He had been sitting in the Emergency waiting room for at least an hour with no word and truth be told every second that had passed had felt like hell. It wasn't bad enough that he had nearly killed her but seeing her in such a state had inscribed a sense of ache in his chest that brought him back to a dark place that he had tried to block out. Now he was nearly dying himself of unrest that came with not knowing if she was okay.

"She's doing fine now," The doctor who's name he didn't catch nor care to glanced down at his board and scribbled something on it before looking back up at him, "Fortunately she didn't have a concussion and no spinal fractures or damage but she did crack two ribs and fractured her wrist. Not to mention quite a large bump on the head. We put her on a morphine drip so she might be a little woozy until she comes off of it but I think I'll keep her overnight, just to make sure she didn't sustain any brain damage." For some reason he hadn't asked exactly how this had happened but maybe he saw the true worry in his own eyes and didn't need to delve deeper, though he was sure he would eventually. Mike wasn't too worried about it right now, all he wanted to do was get back there and make sure that she was okay himself. Something told him that her death on his conscience wouldn't be something he'd be so apt to forget. It made him think of-

No, he wasn't going to think about that right now. Not when Claire was hurt and it was his fault. Not right now and hopefully not ever again but when it came to his mind, nothing was forbidden anymore.

"She's still asleep right now so I wouldn't recommend waking her up," The doctor said and he repressed a small frown. It was probably best that she didn't see him and he hoped that he could check on her really fast and then make a break for it. Perhaps she wouldn't remember him from when she woke up the first time or he hoped so. Mike just nodded slowly and the doctor continued, "I'll take you to her but try and be quiet, she's still in pain. We don't want to exaggerate it."

As he followed the white-coated man down the hallway, he couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that began to swallow him whole.

_'Just one look and then I'm out of here. Just one...'_

* * *

><p>Coming out of a heavy drug induced sleep was something that Claire could never get a grasp on and everytime it happened, while not very often, it was unpleasant at best. She didn't know what it was about narcotics or pain killers but they always made her nauseous and instead of easing the pain it seemed to amplify it instead. As soon as her eyes opened she let out a strangled yell, slamming her hand to her head quickly before dropping it and crying out loudly. Her left hand was broken, around the wrist it seemed, though she couldn't actually see it but she could definitely feel it. It throbbed and it stung and her head felt like it was going to explode. She tried to lean forward but was pushed back by some invisible force and she whimpered as more pain radiated through her chest. Were her ribs broken too?<p>

She leaned back on the pillow and sighed, trying inwardly to command her head to stop throbbing, though of course it would just have to keep at it. She tried to remember what exactly had happened in order to land her in the hospital in the first place but she wasn't coming up with much. She left her apartment, intent on getting a drink and she remembered that on the way to the club her motorcycle had broken down so she had to walk but...

Everything after that was incredibly fuzzy and despite her nausea and her headache she found herself getting incredibly agitated. Why the hell couldn't she remember? Obviously she had retained some sort of head injury and she briefly remembered seeing a really bright light.

A car accident maybe?

Her agitation quickly turned to anger. Some jackoff had most likely hit her with his car and then ran off. If that was the case she couldn't honestly say she was too surprised, she just hoped it really was an accident and not some pre planned thing. Plus she didn't really know what had actually happened, it was all truly speculation but there was something hovering over her, something important.

The creak of a door slowly opening drew her out of her thoughts and she was assaulted by a dim light and the low hum of the overhead fluorescents coming on. Once she could see she was able to clearly decipher that she was indeed in a hospital room but before she could make any other observations, her field of view was blocked off by a man in a white lab coat.

"You're awake, good. I'm Dr. Kaplan, how are you feeling?" Claire breathed out slowly, it wasn't that she was afraid of men in lab coats, she just tended to be on edge around any point of medical authority. Not surprising considering her experience. This Dr. Kaplan seemed gentle enough, with his thin wire frames and his somewhat tired smile and it looked like he had been in this hospital all night long. Must be an ER doctor. Though, ever aware that in her world one should never judge a book by it's cover, she still didn't completely relax around him.

"Honestly?" She rasped out, not realizing how tired she actually was until she spoke, "I feel like someone hit me with their car. H-How did I get here?" As she spoke Dr. Kaplan checked the fluid levels in her IV and her pain medication as well as the heart rate monitor at her side.

"Actually that was something I was hoping you could tell me, ma'am." He turned to her and narrowed his eyes at her in a way that didn't make her completely comfortable. He didn't seem menacing but he did seem skeptical of the situation.

"I don't follow you..." Claire tilted her head at him, obviously she was just as confused as he was and she sort of hoped he'd see that. He turned away from her for a moment to grab a metal stool and pulled it up close to her bedside, sitting down on it carefully and began to look over the clipboard he had pulled from the wall.

"When you first arrived here, you were in pretty bad shape, so we got right to work on helping you. However, despite the information on your person, later we were unsuccessful in finding you in our systems. Or any system to be exact." He rose an eyebrow at her and she suddenly wanted to bolt out of that room, out of that hospital. How exactly had she forgotten that someone had wiped her very existance out of the world?

Nevermind that, how was she supposed to explain to this man that technically she didn't exist? What if he decided to call the authorities or something? What if he though she was a spy or something? Just as Claire opened her mouth to concoct some lie he smiled softly and continued.

"Well nevermind that right now, it's probably some kind of computer malfunction. I'm sure we'll have this all settled out in the morning. I do need some emergency contact information, the man who brought you in already left..." Claire's head snapped up at this and though the pain stabbing her in the temple made her want to go back to sleep she was more interested in what Dr. Kaplan had said.

"You said someone brought me in?"

"Yes," The good doctor didn't look at her as he was busy writing something down on his clipboard. She hated those damn clipboards, made her think they were writing something bad about her or they were drawing some stupid doodle instead. Kind of like when you were in a room with a bunch of people and though you didn't know for sure, you had a pretty good hunch that they were talking about you. Still she waiting quietly and unmovingly for him to continue, "Strange guy. He said he found you on the road, I'm guessing you don't remember it though, or you wouldn't have asked."

"You let him go? What if he was the one who did this to me?" She tried to keep her voice down but she was getting pretty irritated with this situation. It wasn't Dr. Kaplan's fault she knew, it wasn't like he was the one who had mowed her down.

"I didn't exactly 'let him go'. He brought you in, seemed sort of worried considering he claimed to not know you, and then he left. I looked for him but the staff said he was gone. You don't remember what happened at all?"

"..."

"Well, it's alright. You just rest and I'll put an order in for a CT scan, see if we can find anything that might have caused you to forget," He got up from the stool and went to the door, opened it and then turned around again, " If you need anything just buzz the front desk, I'll be back in a few hours."

When Claire was alone she sat in the silence for a few moments before getting up, despite the pain in her muscles, and went over to the window. She leaned against the glass, noted that it was pleasantly cool on her hot skin and closed her eyes, trying to think.

She had heard something in the woods and though she was pretty sure it had been nothing, she still had been spooked. She ran off through the trees and into the road and then...

She was in the air for a second before her body hit something and then collided with the ground. She was awake for barely a moment when she saw him...

Claire's eyes flew open and she pressed her hand to her chest, her heart beating like it was going to thump right out of her ribcage. Flashes invaded her mind and made her head hurt badly...

Green eyes, filled with worry - dirty blonde hair somewhat unkempt - a stern frown etched onto a handsome face - a generous amount of stubble on that very same face -

"Mike..."

She didn't know if it was real, if it was actually him that she saw in the brief moments before she had lost consciousness or not. She didn't know if it was some trick her unstable mind was playing on her in her delirium but it felt real. She had felt him touching her, could feel him now. She could even smell him...

He smelled the same as the day she had met him, a hot cologne layered under the scent of slight sweat and musk.

With no rhyme or reason Claire grabbed her clothes off the table by the bathroom and threw them on, trying to be as careful as possible not to aggravate her injuries. She knew she was in no shape to leave now but she couldn't really stay here. In the morning the hospital staff would figure out that something dirty was going on here and she could not afford to be in the middle of that. And if Mike really had brought her in...

He might know something about what was going on, if he was still working for Umbrella, which she was sure he was. Umbrella were the only ones that she could foresee doing this, he would know for sure.

She didn't know how she was going to find him but as she popped the latches on the window and stepped out onto the roof she knew she had to try.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I told you guys it wasn't over haha. Anyway, this chapter felt like nothing more than filler to me but it wasn't. It's just a prelude leading up to some events that are about to POP off, sort of. I kind of have it planned out in my head but my neuroses keeps making me change the direction. Anyways, the next chapter is probably going to be kind of fluffy but not overly so, more like...fluffy in a stifled way. Fluffy in a way that only our buddy HUNK could achieve. SO...on an unrelated note, I did have the next chapter of BTG almost finished but I hated it so I scrapped half of it and am rewriting it...It'll be up next though. Should be soon so I hope you're looking forward to that. Read and review and stuff! Bye guys!**_


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